Draco's Curious Development
by Peppertails51
Summary: Sequel to 'Hermione's Daring Liaison'. Draco was sure of three things in life. One of which was his hatred of mudbloods and any witch or wizard of tainted descent. That was why this current situation irked him so.
1. Chapter 1

This is the sequel to 'Hermione's Daring Liaison'. Please read that first to understand the plot.

Originally I said that the year they were in was not important... but Draco has many pre war, pre death eater thoughts so it would make more sense if he were in his sixth year. That doesn't affect the plot of the story, but I think it adds dimension to his emotions.

I hope you enjoy this second HermionexDraco installment!

...

In all of his years of living, Draco had become certain of three things. First, he came from a proud pureblood lineage, one that was entitled to the utmost respect, and served the Dark Lord with enthusiasm. Second, when he seceded his father as head of the family he would be the one receiving all of that respect, as well as the loyalty of his family's followers and relatives. They would all bask in the glory of the new world order that was soon to be created. And third, and finally, he loathed mudbloods and any witch or wizard of tainted descent.

It had become a trained reflex for him. Muggles were scum and for one of them to inherit the ability to use magic was unforgivable. Why should someone… no, some_thing_ so weak be blessed with the unparalleled power of sorcery? The idea of such things happening all around him and at such an unstoppable frequency made Draco's skin crawl. He would often be kept awake at night picturing a perfect, muggle-free world.

That was why this current situation irked him so. How could he have such rock-solid principles, ones that he hadn't lost any faith in, mind you, and still be in this predicament? What had began as a simple means to an enjoyable end had drastically transformed into something that felt out of his control.

That was something that Draco did not and would not take lightly. No matter who it was that was making his world tilt on its axis.

…

Draco's eyes slammed shut, his knees digging into the many embroidered pillows that decorated Professor Trelawney's classroom in the Astronomy Tower. His hands cupped her hips, her silky legs wrapped around his waist, and her body arching into his touch, her head pressed back into the plush cushions.

'_Hermione…'_

Draco's eyes drilled into her, watching her move with an intensity that she couldn't see through her closed eyes. An intensity that always frightened Draco after he came down from his post-coital high.

But it wasn't the slightest bit deterring in the heat of the moment.

The blonde licked his lips, a drop of sweat slipping across them as he thrust into Hermione, feeling her velvet insides tightening around him. He glanced up as a breathless gasp rolled off the witch's tongue, her body tensing.

She was at the beginning of her orgasm. They had been together enough times for Draco to recognize her movements. The way her eyebrows would raise, her kiss-bitten lips would part, and her whole body would almost completely still as she savored every tremor that ran through her. He didn't let a second of it escape his attention.

'_Fuck, Hermione!'_

Draco's teeth clenched as he moved at a slowed pace, sheathing and unsheathing himself inch by inch, groaning loudly at the pressure that only increased as Hermione bunched pillows in her fists, her heels digging into his back.

Draco flinched, his hips jerking forward as he released. A loud moan echoed around the circular room as he road out the last moments of his climax. He panted hard, holding himself up with outstretched arms, hovering over Hermione.

Their warm breath mingled as they panted hard, their tight muscles unwinding. Draco's sleepy eyes glided from Hermione's rapidly rising and falling chest to the hollow of her throat to her long, dark eyelashes. He felt transfixed as he stared at the soft shadows they cast down her cheeks in the flickering candlelight.

Then her brown eyes opened.

She blinked up at him hazily, her pupils beginning to focus. Draco swallowed, moistening his dry throat, his eyes unable to move away.

'_Hermione…'_

The Gryffindor cleared her throat pointedly, her gaze unflinching. After a stalled second Draco moved out of her, hissing at the cold night air that filtered in through an open window. Hermione also moved away, sitting up and locating her clothes. She hastily dressed, her eyes flicking towards the door, the exit… an escape from the young Malfoy heir.

Draco felt a scowl warp his features as he pulled on his pants, tightening his belt quickly. She always did that. Always looked away. She had no troubled drinking in his naked form when they were screwing. But after? Not a glance.

This upset Draco more than he cared to admit.

Suddenly, he heard the clacking of heels and his eyes snapped to Hermione's receding back.

"Granger!" Draco grunted quickly before he could stop himself, catching her attention. She halted, turning slowly to face him. Her eyes were cold, one eyebrow quirked in question.

That was not the look he wanted from her.

Scrutinizing eyes that may as well have been closed for all the emotion they displayed. They only shone back indifference in the dim light of the classroom.

But then… what look did he want?

The Slytherin glanced away quickly, ignoring his contemplation, trying to find his words.

"I'm having trouble in Advanced Potions. I'm free Tuesday night."

This was the norm when it came to planning their next romp. Draco would always ask, and Hermione would always take a long pause before giving an answer. It was like an unwritten rule: They would always make plans for another meeting. And why not? Each time was more pleasurable and exciting than the last. It was the only logical thing to do.

"I do believe I'm busy that day," Hermione replied smoothly, tapping her index finger against her lips. "Besides, it's only Saturday now. I think you can wait until Thursday."

Draco heard the sly tone of her voice and glared at her, seeing the wicked smirk on her lips that he knew would be there. She was playing with him again. Like she always did.

"Fine," Draco snapped, yanking his shirt on angrily. He had no choice but to comply with her demands. He wanted these meetings too much to refuse her. When had he lost his dominance of this situation? He often asked himself this, but he all too well knew the answer.

"Good boy," Hermione said with a chuckle, disappearing out the door. Draco regarded the inky shadows left behind with malice. He buttoned up quickly, retrieving his things before starting his long trek towards his dormitory.

In the cool darkness that seemed to always accompany Hogwarts at night, Draco unwillingly began to turn thoughts over and over again in his head. Although he would have much rather gone to bed without another internal word, the silence that made his ears ring was almost more irritating.

'_Why, in Merlin's name, am I having these trysts with Granger?'_

This was a question with an easy answer. Hermione Granger was an attractive woman. And the sex was fantastic. Orgasmic. Unparalleled. This was obvious and simple. Yet, sometimes, the more plain something seemed the easier it was to overthink.

Draco had done that countless times: beat the same questions to death. One would have thought that he'd be satisfied by now. But he wasn't. With his conclusion, that is.

He was _still _always asking why.

'_Why, why, why?'_

As if the more he asked the sooner the answer would fall from the sky. Unfortunately that hadn't seemed to happen yet.

'_Why do I always come back to her?'_

This was another popular question. Draco had a variety of Slytherin options as far as sexual partners. He had often spent his free time (and occasionally, during classes) flirting with whoever had caught his fancy that day. They were putty in his hands. Both Draco and the girls in question knew it.

But… perhaps that was part of the problem. He knew that Granger could drop him like a hot caldron without a remorseful thought or backward glance. Draco conceded that he was at least a little messed up to think that an attractive quality.

Not to mention, Granger had been privy to a great deal of his coquettish conversations and didn't bat an eye. Ever. She didn't care one way or another who he was keeping company with. Whether it was innocent (which it rarely was) or more intimate. That hadn't changed a single scrap even after they had started their _routine_.

Perhaps that was because she regarded _him_ as someone on the side. This infuriated Draco greatly. He was no back burner lay. If anything it should be the other way around. Yet the fact that he had these anxieties told him a different story. And of course, this pondering lead to the inevitable question:

'_Why do I allow her to play with me like this?'_

Draco wasn't too proud to admit that he had lost a certain amount of control over the situation. Granger now set the dates at her discretion, setting them far apart purposely to annoy him. He hated it more than he had words to describe.

But… he had no choice. He had been the first to show weakness all those weeks and months ago. Perhaps that entitled the uppity witch to her superiority.

Damn his slip of the tongue!

It was the last thing he wanted, and hadn't an inkling as to why such a ludicrous thing would have happened in the first place. It was maddening!

'_Why did I call out for her?'_

Not to mention, he could no longer stop himself from wanting to call out her name. He had managed to restrain himself to mere internal mumblings, but just the fact that he had to resist something like that… it was _very_ un-Slytherin like. _Very, very_ un-Malfoy like. It was definitely not becoming of a soon to be Death Eater like himself.

There was no reason for it. He had never uttered her first name before that night, not even in passing. The idea that Draco would moan it against the heated skin of her shoulder after having surprisingly amazing sex seemed nearly impossible! Even in his wildest dreams the aggravated blonde would not have done such a thing.

… Then again, the 'amazing sex' part was improbable all on its own. Maybe this _was_ just an outrageous dream. That would be the only way to make this situation even remotely possible.

And what was worse? Draco knew that if that were true, he never wanted to wake up. Not if it meant going unfulfilled. It was just too satisfying.

And he couldn't help but desire her.

…

The next morning Draco awoke groggily. He rubbed his eyes until he saw spots, his whole body intent on dragging him back down to the tangled sheets of his bed. However, his internal clock told him that he had to begin heading towards the Astronomy Tower as soon as possible. He had to prove to Professor Trelawney that he had become adept at crystal ball readings thanks to his recent tutelage.

Draco knew that Granger was not a fan of that particular professor, but ever the know it all; she had managed to put aside her distaste for the loony and often inaccurate predictions of fortune telling, and earn a desirable grade.

'_There really isn't much that I can say as far as this class's usefulness, but there is a trick to it,'_ Granger had told the Slytherin the night before, _'All you have to do is move your hands slowly around the crystal, and gaze into it. Remember either squint, or let your eyes cross a bit so that the images blur.'_ Draco held back a chuckle as he remembered her demonstration. She had looked absolutely ridiculous.

'_From there you just need to spot a shape or color and deduce a meaning from it. My advice is to act slightly surprised and in awe of what you are seeing. Also, she loves dramatic, negative readings. If you feel like she isn't impressed with your performance just foretell something terrible. Works every time.'_

Stupid looking or not, Granger's performance did look like it would convince someone like Trelawney.

After slowly rising and going through his morning rituals, Draco headed out of the dorm, dressed fairly casually. His billowing cloak and sweater vest adorned with the Slytherin symbol were left sprawled across his bed. This left him in black slacks, his white, button up shirt and green striped tie that still felt a little crooked around his neck.

By the time he had gotten to the Astronomy Tower he had fiddled with his tie for long enough, finally getting it to lie comfortably. Draco entered the room and was almost knocked back by the intense cinnamon smell that wafted about the room. His eyes watered as he stumbled towards the window, throwing it open and gulping in fresh breaths.

Once the need for clean air was satisfied Draco plopped down on a large pillow a few levels up the sections of seating in the circular classroom. He glared at the incense on Professor Trelawney's desk grumbling at what healing properties she insisted it possessed. Did it increase energy and vigor, or stimulate the mind? Draco decided he would probably never care.

With a sigh he checked the clock. She was late as Draco suspected. It's not like he truly had somewhere else to be that day, but Draco was still irritated that someone would dare waste his precious time.

Draco got comfortable, his arms folded on a tiny desk and his face resting against the ironed fabric of his shirt. Buried beneath the thick spicy scent in the room his nose picked up on the zesty smell of clean that floated up from his uniform. A hint of lemon? Maybe.

Draco squeezed his eyes shut nuzzling into the fabric of his sleeves. It was a homey aroma and it reminded him of his mother. Back when he was a child and after the Dark Lord had first disappeared, the Death Eaters were still killing, albeit with no direction. They were in a sort of mourning and many had turned to Lucius Malfoy to lead them. Draco could remember vividly the nights his father would return home after days at a time of leading his flock.

Draco would often sit with his mother in the washroom, watching the blood from his father's shirts stain the sudsy water a murky russet color. He knew they had house elves to rely on, but Narcissa insisted on washing his clothes personally. As a child Draco always thought this peculiar.

"_Mother, why not let the house elves take care of it? Their duty is to serve us," Draco asked as an innocent child, his large gray eyes staring up at her and her surprisingly contented smile._

"_I do this because I love your father, darling," Narcissa answered warmly adding more soap and scrubbing._

"_But the house elves clean my clothes! Don't you love me too?" Draco exclaimed, whimpering with the attitude of a babied only child._

"_Don't be silly Draco! Of course I love you!" Narcissa answered with a chuckle, gazing at her son. She paused her cleaning efforts and removed her wet forearms from the water, smearing the moisture on her apron._

"_I clean your father's clothes because he came back from such a dangerous mission."_

"_But why his clothes, Mother? If I came back from a dangerous mission I would want a big, delicious dinner!" Draco thought out loud, licking his lips at the idea._

_A look of sadness tightened Narcissa's lips to a thin line and made her eyes squint slightly, but as a boy Draco hadn't taken much notice of that expression. As a man, however, he finally understood that she was depressed by the chances of him becoming a real Death Eater._

"_Well I'm sure he would enjoy that as well," she answered after a thick swallow. "But I wash his things because he returned safely."_

_She stared into the metal tub, her eyes becoming unfocused. Draco inched over to her side and watched the gruesome water with her. Her delicate fingers suddenly grasped Draco's tiny hand and he looked over at his mother._

"_Every day he returns I'm thankful that the blood I wash out of his clothes isn't his own." Narcissa pulled young Draco close, drowning out the metallic aroma of blood with the lemony smell of her clothes. Draco held her back, still somewhat unsure of his mother's sadness. _

'_Father is a strong and proud Death Eater. Nothing can hurt him.'_

Draco's eyes shot open, a chilly wind slamming the door to the classroom shut with a bang. He glanced towards the window as though he expected to actually see the overbearing cinnamon trailing out the window.

As the spice filtered out of the room Draco's nose began to adjust to the seemingly odorless air. Slowly, faint smells began to become apparent.

The musty smell of the attic like room, the bitter smell of wax and burnt candles, and something… flowery.

The blonde's jaw tightened as he recognized that distinctly floral scent. A mixture of lilac and honeysuckle. It reminded him of the garden at Malfoy Manor, but with a much sweeter intensity. He was startled that it still lingered in the room.

'_Hermione.'_

When he began his education at Hogwarts she was the first mudblood he had ever had extended contact with. His mind had been poisoned to see them as monsters, so he naturally assumed everything about them, even their physical selves, would be putrid. Somewhere in his childish thoughts he had suspected that mudbloods would even smell like terrible, grimy things.

Hermione wasn't any of that to his astonishment. She was a small, bushy-haired, normal girl. A girl who smelled of flowers. If Draco weren't such a proud person he would have admitted that realization to be a pleasant surprise.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy!" A voice suddenly shouted, the wooden door swinging open. Draco grimaced at the scuffling of feet and the crinkles of paper being bent. Professor Trelawney dashed into the room, tripping slightly and letting all of the papers in her hands go flying across her desk. She blinked rapidly through her cartoonish spectacles before dusting herself off with a huff.

"So _terribly_ sorry for my tardiness, Mr. Malfoy," the professor exclaimed as she began rifling around in her drawers, things tumbling around her haphazardly, "You see Headmaster Dumbledore insisted on tea this morning and while I passed by his finished cup I saw a horrifying symbol of destruction and chaos in his tea leaves! As you can imagine I had to insist that he go through the proper cycles of purification!"

Draco ground his teeth in frustration, hesitating on whether he should sit silently or tell her to shove it and get on with the review. Professor Trelawney, however, stopped mid explanation upon hefting a crystal ball and small pillow out of her closet of supplies.

"Here we are, Mr. Malfoy," she said as she skipped up the steps, excited at the prospect of more fortune telling, no doubt. She placed the pillow gingerly on the table in front of Draco, balancing the crystal ball on top even more carefully. The blonde mentally scoffed at her obvious concern for the ordinary object. He was certain that is was only glass and could be easily replaced.

"No need to be shy, go ahead and show me the fruits of your labor," the professor elatedly clapped her hands together, "I wont grade you too harshly. When I heard that Ms. Granger was your tutor I was a bit skeptical. Although she has improved greatly in this class I still have doubts about her having any meaningful gifts. I understand if she wasn't very… erm helpful."

Draco turned his head slightly and coughed so as to roll his eyes unseen. He knew Trelawney must have been mad if she thought Hermione were anything but brilliant. Despite her making him beside himself with irritation, he could not deny that she bested not only him but also everyone in every subject known to wizard kind.

Nevertheless, Draco rolled up his sleeves, ready for this session to be over with as soon as possible. He held his hands over the crystal, letting the 'magic flow from his fingertips' as the loony professor always instructed. He gazed deep into the smooth glass, sometimes roaming its surface, sometimes looking through it.

All he could see were the warped surroundings stretched in the clear sphere. As he moved his hands and let his eyes glaze over and blur he felt himself drift away from the classroom and the task at hand. As much as he tried resisting, lately it was becoming easy to daydream and escape reality.

His thoughts always wandered back to the same place. His eyelids dipped and his head felt strangely heavy on his shoulders. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a moan.

She was everywhere at once. Draco could never fathom how she managed it. Her lips and tongue and teeth leaving bruises on his porcelain skin. He shivered as he recalled all the places she had marked him. They were always towards the center of his body, making them impossible to see while he was clothed. Hiding her passion behind a layer of thin, white fabric. She had either planned it or was just naturally sneaky.

Why did a part of him want to carry these marks around in broad daylight? Why did he want people to see?

Her hands would caress when he wanted the commitment of a firm grip. They would claw when he complained for hurried satisfaction. They would dance around where he wanted them most. They would touch him so fervently with a fiery burn yet leave him frozen when they quickly pulled away.

Why did he want them so badly every passing second? Why had his desire to possess her never ceased to grow with each meeting?

He was thrilled at the chance to return her touches with his own. He couldn't sensor his intense cravings to make her weak. He would moan at the sight of her strong, proud, and unyielding shoulders falling slack as she shuddered with fulfillment and wilted in his arms. Her neck tipped back and bumps of her collarbones and the swell of her chest laid out in front of him like a feast for a starving man.

Why couldn't he at least pretend hold back? Why didn't he have a shred of guilt for fraternizing with the enemy?

The supple skin of her body would drive him to the edge of insanity. His mouth watered at the sight and feel of her curves as he thought of tasting them. He ached painfully when every inch of him wasn't pressed against some part of her form. Whenever he would drag his tongue lower to please her he found himself groaning and thrusting into empty air, feeling as much pleasure as if their roles were reversed. He was more often than not left breathless and wanting although he was fairly certain he could hardly move let alone be satisfied again. His bottomless hunger for her was truly terrifying.

Why did he want her _so fucking much_?

Although Draco was confident that he was dead to the world by now, a vivid color began to spread open like a flower before his eyes. A wicked crimson bled into every corner of his vision. He blinked rapidly feeling the unpleasant descent back to the mundane world outside his imagination.

"I see… red," he muttered, blinking rapidly as he found himself back in the Astronomy Tower. In the corner of his eye he could see Professor Trelawney lean in closer.

"Yes, yes… can you make out a shape or form, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked in excitement. He shifted his hands around, his shoulders beginning to ache.

"It looks like… a rose." Draco stated after a moment of observation, slightly put off that he hadn't been able to foretell something more interesting. Yet the fact that he could actually see something in the crystal ball rather than pretend he could was very eerie. He hadn't expected anything to present itself to him and yet there sat a rose, its petals dewy and perfectly arranged.

"Aaah the red rose!" Trelawney exclaimed gazing up to the rafters, "That foretells a great passion and romance! Certainly an omen of good, exciting news!"

Suddenly Draco jumped where he sat, startling his professor as well as himself. A chill ran down his spine, which surprised the young Malfoy. He couldn't believe he was so shocked at the imagery before him.

'What do you see!" She questioned in a deeper voice that she reserved only for speaking about death and bad tealeaves.

"The rose… It turned black and the petals fell away," the blonde answered with a tone of question. This was supposed to be a redeeming grade for him and he was already screwing things up.

"Oh my dear boy!" The professor gasped and clutched at her chest, "A wilting flower is a symbol of a tragic end! For your beautiful red rose to die means that if you do not change your course of actions a relationship very close to your heart will spoil and rot away!"

Draco stared incredulously at the old woman. He never considered anyone to be close enough to him to be considered part of a relationship. He had loyal followers, not friends.

His reasoning, however, did not keep his palms from growing clammy or relax the hairs that stood up on the back of his neck.

He decided to ignore the preposterous assumptions that his brain supplied him with in regards to the prediction. To have someone close enough to care about was a liability. A weakness. And if there was one thing that Draco was not, it was weak.

Besides, Professor Trelawney's predictions were usually wrong.

…

The next few days passed by uneventfully. Draco had received a decent grade for his make up class and had the rest of the week to catch up on homework and laze about the castle. Time seemed to play tricks on the wizard, stretching on endlessly with no end in sight.

The clock slowly clicked to the late afternoon of Sunday and Draco was surprisingly happy at the prospects of returning to his schedule of classes the next day. That afternoon he sat in the shade of a tree in one of the courtyards. He pulled a dragon skin, heavily bound notebook out of his bag. The best that money could buy, courtesy of his father.

Draco also took out a quill, enchanted with never ending ink. He started scribbling away on the pages, flipping through the small, red book of spells he had recently bought. Upon his last trip to Hogsmead he located an adult shop he had been researching and purchased this book of spells. He wanted to understand the enchantments Hermione seemed to constantly cast during their study sessions. Not only did he plan to use them, but also, he still hadn't figured out where his shirt was from the first night. One of his goals was to find a spell to reverse that one.

As he flipped the pages and jotted his notes down the sun slipped by in the sky. Deciphering naughty spells was probably not the best use of his time, especially since he really did need Hermione's tutoring more than he let on, but he was too easily distracted to care. He would be a Death Eater soon enough and then none of this schooling would matter anyway.

Draco shoved away the inevitable thoughts of why he bothered with tutoring in the first place. He already knew that were it not for the meetings that involved actual learning, Hermione wouldn't bother with him at all. Draco was the opposite. Despite Hermione's vast knowledge he couldn't care less about actually taking something academic away from the lesson, although he usually did.

But that in turn made him wonder why this had started in the first place. Hermione had undoubtedly initiated things, but that in itself was a contradiction.

Hermione equaled good and pure (and often annoying). Passionate romps with someone you hated (but had undeniable chemistry with) were the exact opposite of good and pure. The opposite of Hermione Granger.

Draco froze. He was doing it again. Thinking of unimportant things.

He let out a sigh and slid a hand through his hair. This whole situation was making him think too much. He needed to distance himself from this. Not by putting a stop to it, of course, but by overcoming it. Draco considered himself too strong to be wrapped around the finger of a mere girl.

However, sometimes life has a funny way of forcing your hand. As Draco packed away his little red book, unwillingly attempting to do some real studying, he heard a noise. Amidst all of the hustle and bustle of students he picked up on the most unpleasant of sounds.

The blonde scowled in the direction of the noise, seeing the pure blood disgrace, Ronald Weasley, just as he had expected. Draco grit his teeth at the awkward sound of his laugh as it drifted across the crowd. It was nasally and accompanied with an orchestra of snorts. The proud Slytherin could only groan at the red headed embarrassment.

And yet, as the crowd dispersed he could see not just Weasley, but Potter and Hermione as well. He wasn't surprised in the least. The three were all joined by the hip, adventuring and doing good together. The Golden Trio: always ready to lend a helping hand. Stealing from the rich to give to the poor, baking cookies, volunteering, smiting evil and all that ridiculous rubbish. Draco had no words to describe his hatred.

And then another sound met his ears. This one wasn't abrasive at all, though. Instead of nails on a chalkboard, Draco was greeted with a light and airy tinkle, like wind chimes in the breeze.

It was Hermione's laugh.

Draco was startled to say the least. His ears felt unclean from slightly enjoying the sound. He wondered why it was such a shock to him at first, but then he paused. He realized that he had never heard it until now.

It was pathetically obvious. Why would he ever hear that? There was never a moment where the two would even smile at each other unless it was after a jab at the other's pride or a spiteful glance. And, as of lately, Hermione's wicked, lecherous grin could be added to the list of smiles Draco saw.

Speaking of which, just before the three entered the castle, Hermione glanced over her shoulder catching Draco red handed as he stared. He quickly glared; his gray eyes flashing with what he hoped was intensity rather that mortification. He watched her eyes flicker all over him, analyzing body language, facial expressions, and any tiny clues she could find, no doubt.

Draco felt goose bumps as her coffee colored eyes met his, a smooth pink smile spanning from cheek to cheek. He saw a hint of teeth that could have been fangs if her passionate gaze was any indication of the animal inside her.

Then with a wide stride she disappeared through a stony entrance to the castle. Draco let out a breath, his heart beating just a little bit faster. He decided that if a smile like that was the only one he'd get he could live with that.

Although, now Thursday seemed even further away.

…

And so the week drug sluggishly on. It had become a habit for Draco to fall a sleep in at least half of his classes out of sheer boredom, thinking only of his future career path and, every so often, waiting for Thursday to come. This led to him missing key information, which meant he needed even more tutoring. Draco was convinced it was an inescapable cycle.

His friends would often wake him but this irritated him more than made him feel grateful. They offered their notes but there was no way in hell Draco would use Crabbe or Goyle's sloppy scribble. He wasn't a moron. Even when more intellectual Slytherins offered to help him he shrugged it off. 'I have a tutoring session scheduled, anyway,' he would always say. 'The professors wont let me cancel.'

His housemates offered their condolences upon hearing who was tutoring Draco. The young Malfoy shrugged that off as well. 'It is of no consequence who is assigned to the job so long as it achieves me a passing grade,' he retorted.

The other Slytherins knew full well of Draco's soon to be Death Eater status and weren't at all suspicious of his lack of concern for classes. Any one of them would have dropped out by now if they had gotten the same chance.

During his last class on that long awaited Thursday, Draco anxiously scuffed his feet on the stone beneath his desk. A thought struck him as his imagination wandered.

Why not simply have Granger teach him everything?

Classes were outrageously boring anyway and in the last few months Draco had learned more from Hermione anyway. He knew it impossible, though. Not out of any concern for what her schedule was like, but because people would find it suspicious and to set something like that up would probably be more trouble than it was worth.

But more than that, having Hermione become his teacher would drag all that they were into the daylight. Draco didn't have to think for a second on how much that particular witch would hate such a thing. It was the smart choice, he knew full well, but he didn't like the idea of being a shameful secret. The words 'Malfoy' and 'shameful' were not to be used in the same sentence unless 'thinks the Weasleys are' was between them.

If it weren't for their conflicting houses there would be no reason to hide. They would just be two exceptionally good-looking people (especially on Draco's part) enjoying the satisfaction of intermingling their bodies…

Of course Draco would _still_ be a potential Death Eater…

And Hermione _was_ best friends with the chosen hero of the prophecy…

And she hated him…

And his family would hate her…

And she was a _mudblood_…

And he hated her back.

"Bloody ridiculous," Draco snarled under his breath. There he went again, his thoughts wandering down a road they had no business on. A road that disgusted Draco; one that he wanted no part in.

They were two ships passing in the night. They may have occasionally docked at the same port and caught glances of each other, but on the squalling sea they had no relation to speak of and one always steered clear of the other.

They were just two people. They were just having sex.

Draco mentally amended that to 'they were having incredible sex' instead of 'just'. With that, he began to appreciate this day for a whole new reason. Not only was he going to satisfy his urges and relieve his stress, but he was also going to reaffirm his feelings about their arrangement, or rather lack of feelings.

An evening of tangling limbs with a beautiful woman. That didn't sound half bad to Draco at all.

…

Night brought a haunting chill to the dungeons. Draco gripped his cloak close to his body for warmth while navigating the corridors. The flickering of a few torches illuminated the wet stone with an orange hue though they did nothing for overpowering the cold air that drifted in the barred windows.

Draco pushed the potion's classroom door open and fumbled around the dark room as the hinges creaked to a close. He nudged a table and cursed, pulling out his wand and casting Lumos.

Of course she wasn't here. Why would the room have been dark if she were here? Draco grit his teeth and fumed silently, lighting a few of the torches in the classroom. The blonde himself was already fashionably late. What was Hermione's excuse?

Draco pocketed his wand, taking a seat on a stool and rocking the legs back and forth. He stared absentmindedly at the hundreds of glass bottles lining the walls. They flickered in the light of the fire, a golden tint cascading everywhere.

Golden like Hermione's hair. Draco smirked as he remembered how it looked their first year. He often wondered if she was getting struck by lightning. After all, it would have amounted to the same affect on her frazzled hair. That wild nest had been tamed through years of practice, though. It was now soft and untangled, gentle waves giving it the slightest bit of bounce.

Draco sucked in his bottom lip and worried it between his teeth. He was not having sex with her hair. It was her body he was after and that was all he should concern himself with. He would do well to remember.

But then… why did he have to keep reminding himself of that?

Suddenly a tell tale squeak sounded from the door. Draco jumped up, his heart leaping in his chest before leaning nonchalantly against a table, forcing a bored expression to mask his face.

"So nice of you to join us, Granger," The blonde said, unable to hold back all of the snap in his voice. He watched her enter the room before shutting the door heavily behind her. She met his gaze with one containing more annoyance than usual. It surprised Draco for a moment but he didn't comment on it. But more importantly, she was the one who was late this time, not him.

"Malfoy," she said followed by a harsh exhale. Much sharper than the sigh Draco was expecting. Was she out of breath? Her cheeks did look rosier…

"As much as it pains me to say this," she continued, heavy sarcasm coating her tone. Where was her tie? Her uniform strangely lacked it. "I'm going to have to cancel our session for tonight."

Draco heard this, but didn't react. He was too busy staring. Two of her top buttons were mismatched causing an obvious rumple in her not so crisp button up blouse. Surely she had had enough time to dress herself. What was her hurry?

"Malfoy, are you listening?" The Gryffindor asked in a huff. Crossing her arms angrily. Said button up shirt was untucked and hung wrinkled by her skirt. It looked very messy protruding out from under her sweater like that. She never ever let herself look that disheveled. Why now?

"Merlin's sake, what are you staring at!" Hermione exclaimed trying to catch Draco's occupied eyes. He stepped closer, still observing. Something was off about this, and though he was picking up on all these clues, he wasn't sure what they meant.

Before he knew it they were standing not even a foot away. Draco looked down at her as her mouth moved, berating him for something his ears couldn't interpret at the moment. He reached out and caught her chin between his fingers in one fluid motion. Hermione fell silent, the shock of his gesture stealing away her words.

Her lips.

Even in the rapid flickering of the fire he could see it.

The slightest smear of pink and sparkles adorning her cheek when it should have been on her lips.

"What were you doing just a few moments ago?" Draco asked quietly. There was no venom in his voice, just curiosity.

His query seemed to die as soon as it hit the air. Hermione just stared back at him, a confused look on her face. What was happening? Draco was trying to understand what he was feeling but it was slipping through his grasp.

Why were his eyes desperately searching her like that? And his brows were furrowed with the slightest tinge of sadness. His throat tight and aching. His lips parted in question. Why did he feel so…

Betrayed?

Hermione jerked her chin away, eyes suddenly interested in the ground, an irate expression returning to her features.

"I don't see how any of that is _your_ business," she said, brushing at her clothes as if he were the one who wrinkled them. "I said I had to cancel. There is someone who needs my help more tonight." She let out an angry sigh, boring holes into the ground with her glare.

Draco felt something ugly rise up in his chest. Something hot and uncomfortable. He could feel quick, harsh breaths rattle his lungs.

Someone else needed her help more? What the hell did that mean?

…And who?

Who could possibly need her tonight? Who was fucking with his precious Thursday?

Draco surmised that the better question was what sorry prat was he going to kill that night.

"I bet." Draco spat in a tone so acidic he saw Hermione jump. Before she could look up, before she could make a sound, he was pressed against her, her back against the door. He was sure his grip was too tight around her wrists but he couldn't focus.

"_Who was it?_" Draco barked, his hot breath panting like fire from between a dragon' teeth. "Who's been touching you? Because it certainly hasn't been me!"

"What are you talking about, you _bloody idiot?_" Hermione hissed, her voice climbing octaves with frustration, wriggling her arms, trying to escape.

"Was it Mclaggen? He's been sniffing around you for Merlin knows how long!" Draco growled, using one hand to hold both her wrists while the other reached to clamp on to her jaw, forcing her to look in his eyes.

"Let me go, Malfoy!"

"Or Potter? You can pretend all you want but your relationship is unnaturally close!"

"Damn it, Malfoy, let go!"

"And who could forget Weasley? That stupid, gangly prick! If you wanted to insult me you certainly-"

"LET ME FUCKING GO, MALFOY!" Hermione screamed, wrenching herself violently against his hold. She bucked against him, trying to get free but she only managed to grind against Draco who was instantly aroused by the action.

"NEVER!" Draco growled with firmness that couldn't be questioned. He released her chin to clutch her hip, pressing flush against her. The pressure made him groan with pleasure but didn't ease his temper any. Hermione's expression became revolted as he used her body to relieve his urges, fueling Draco's anger. She tried to flatten herself to the door, dying to get away from him. Unable to bare his touch.

His lips came crashing down on hers, their teeth knocking for a second, but the blonde kissed through the dull ache of his gums. His tongue explored Hermione's mouth uproariously, with her tongue struggling to push him out, her lips trying to stay closed. But Draco easily captured her lower lip, sucking on it achingly slow, just like he knew she liked.

She whimpered sharply and it went straight to his cock. Draco groaned against her mouth and ran a hand hastily up her skirt, his hand warmed by the smooth flesh he found there. He broke their kiss as a gasp escaped him, his hips rubbing relentlessly against Hermione's lower stomach.

He could still stir her even when she hated him more than anything else. He felt himself harden at that thought. If this was the only power he had over her he was going to enjoy it.

As stars exploded behind his eyelids he thought of how much he needed this. Despite what she had been doing only a few moments ago with someone else, Draco still wanted her urgently.

He wanted so badly to just tear off her clothes and be inside of her once more. He was so hard it hurt. He needed this. Could taste it. He was sure he could easily forget her unfaithfulness. The whole thing was superficial anyway. What was there to be unfaithful about?

But then it was over. Draco let out an exasperated moan as he was pushed away, the cold air of the dungeon returned. He glared through hazy eyes at Hermione who had the nerve to wipe her mouth of him. There was a long silence between the both of them. Draco breathed heavily and stared at Hermione, waiting for a reaction. She just stood there though, her hand still on her mouth, her body quivering slightly. Draco wasn't sure if it was from pleasure or hatred. Probably a bit of both.

"_Find a new tutor_." Hermione spat quietly, but her tone made up for the lack of volume.

Draco's gaze drifted to the stone floor, stunned, the door swinging open and left unclosed. All he could do was listen to the fading footfalls. Each one was like a kick to the stomach.

And then, adding insult to injury, in the glinting firelight Draco saw something horrible. Something beyond disgusting. Clinging innocently to his shirt was a short, red hair.

He grit his teeth together, a new rage boiling up inside him. He swung an arm across the nearest table, sending empty glass vials flying.

That night, Draco's furious screaming was drowned out by the glittering explosion of a forgotten tutoring session.

And the next morning, no one would have a clue of the destruction that had gone on only hours ago.

...

This sequel will probably end up being a few chapters long. Look forward to more!  
>R&amp;R&amp;Enjoy :)<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Hello again! It's been a long time, I know, but with the summer here I finally have time to continue my writings :) This chapter is a bit short but it is the beginning of me getting back into gear with writing. And I figured my fans deserved an update :)

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><p>There was something about the way she walked that infuriated him to no end. There was an unnecessary bounce to it, like she was lighter than air. It was carefree. It was happy.<p>

Draco used to be the reason for that extra pep in her step, and sometimes the limp when those tutoring sessions ran late into the night. Now he couldn't help but despise who was the reason now.

It had been about three weeks since Hermione had ditched Draco as some one under her tutelage. Now he was grasping at straws, going over and over what he had done to drive her into the arms of someone else. Into Weasley's arms.

In part, he knew that it was because he was a Slytherin and she a Gryffindor. Two polar opposites. As much as it pained him to think about, Hermione probably jumped at the chance to be back together with Weasley. He was the _good_ guy. The _right_ choice. And Draco was simply not.

With this knowledge constantly circling in his mind his dismal grades had dropped to a point of no return. He was assigned many new tutors but drove them away with his heightened state of fury. He ignored his teachers' pleas for his attention. He all but exiled his friends from his presence.

"_You'll be a Death Eater soon anyway."_

"_I'd be skipping classes everyday if I were you."_

"_You're so lucky."_

That was all Draco ever heard from his classmates and he was getting sick of it. Even though he was getting closer and closer to leaving Hogwarts he still had to be here for a few more weeks. Maybe months. He didn't want his remaining time here to be cloaked in a silent, simmering anger.

Draco hated himself for succumbing to these wild emotions. They possessed his thoughts, his body, all that he was.

But it was all _her_ fault.

And now, Draco was going to do something drastic to change everything.

Or so he hoped.

…

The sun was setting on a seemingly ordinary day at Hogwarts. The warmth of the approaching spring months remained in the air even with the sun slowly disappearing. Any students still on the grounds were quickly filtering into the Great Hall for dinner. Hermione had just finished her final class and was rushing across an empty bridge towards the delicious smells of a feast wafting through the air.

Hermione neared a courtyard and stepped into the shadows created by the stone statues and hallways that were arranged around the large wooden doors. As she hurried forward the books in her arms were jostled and a notepad fell to the ground. Hermione groaned and stopped, stooping down to retrieve her possession.

A cool breeze ruffled her hair, exposing her neck and that's when she felt it. Her heartbeat stumbled and she felt as though she was being watched.

Suddenly she was hoisted by the waist to a cold, stone, hallway corner, her books falling to the ground, and all the air in her lungs knocked out of her. She drew in a raged breath to scream, but a large hand covered her mouth.

Hermione felt her head spin and all of her nerves tighten in fear when she felt her attacker's body blanket hers against the walls. Then she looked up to see two smoldering gray eyes.

"Hermione," Draco breathed heavily, his body heaving against hers creating an intense heat between them. Hermione stared up at him wide eyed, her heart still beating at an increased pace but for slightly different reasons. What did he want? When was the last time she'd seen him that close?

"That name got me into trouble last time," he whispered, slowly releasing his grasp on her lips and creating a barrier with his arms to keep her in place. Upon hearing this Hermione felt her eyebrows furrow. She didn't have time to ponder, however, because Draco's burning stare was too much to ignore.

"You know I'm surprised," Draco began with a cool smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "You had an incredible amount of leverage over me. We could have had passionate sex without commitment for quite a while longer."

Hermione felt herself flush. It gave her mixed emotions to hear the truth of what had transpired between them stated so simply. She felt a nagging twinge of guilt but a more logical part of her rationalized that she had nothing to feel bad about.

She had explored her sexual side. So what? She had chosen a fine, although irritating, male specimen to practice with. Even better. And most importantly she had been safe. It had been… fantastic to be honest. It was… fun. But now…

"You know, it really baffles me," Draco said with an incredulous chuckle, "of all the people in this damn castle, if you were going to pick someone over me I would have never _ever_ expected it to be Weasley."

Hermione wanted to protect her friend like she knew she should, but she knew she was in the wrong. She could feel the pain in Draco's voice. A sadness that mirrored her own. Her heart hurt when she remembered that night in the dungeons. She wished desperately that things had ended differently. After all, despite the fact that she and Draco had never been on good terms she was still a caring person. Hermione couldn't help it.

But what choice did they have? This was how things would have gone anyway. Hermione just ended it a little sooner than it would have naturally. It was better this way… or at least, it should have been.

Suddenly Hermione felt a warm hand press into her lower back while another gently cupped her neck. She looked up and felt a shudder pass through her as two dazzling gray eyes drank her in.

"I'm a tad bit insulted, I must say," Draco whispered, his warm breath wafting against her lips. She could almost taste the sharp spearmint flavor that was usually on his tongue. "Or I would be if I thought Weasley could even compare to me as a lover."

Draco practically purred this as he brought her hips to meet his. Goose bumps shot down Hermione's legs to her toes and back again. Her eyes cinched shut as she held her breath. Draco's lips just barely touched her neck. They hovered against her pulse that was now picking up.

"Does he compare?" he murmured, his words vibrating cross her skin. "Or are you kept awake at night thinking of me?"

Hermione felt a jolt snap through her uncontrollably. She bit down on her bottom lip to keep a gasp from accompanying the convulsion.

She could hardly think, hardly breath. _What was he doing here? What was all of this for?_ No answers presented themselves. Hermione flushed with embarrassment, her heartbeat so loud she worried that Draco could actually hear it.

Then, to her surprise she felt the hot hands on her body shift. Draco adjusted his position as the hand on her lower back slid to her thigh, his thumb lightly tracing the lace beneath her skirt.

Hermione's mouth fell open as Draco's fingers tickled their way along the thin fabric of her underwear. Her head tipped back and her eyes closed tighter as she anticipated his movements, his forefinger slowly but surely pinpointing the exact location of her arousal.

A tremor rocked through Hermione's body as he just barely brushed against her. A feeling that had become a distant memory yet was oh so familiar. She pondered for a moment why she had decided to reject her meetings with Draco.

But then the teasing pressure disappeared and Draco stepped back. Hermione met his eyes unable to hide the pure confusion in her expression, biting her lip sharply to keep her eyelids from sinking and her body from shuddering as intense déjà vu consumed her.

She remembered all the moments like these too well.

Draco held her gaze for a few moments before crouching down to scoop up her fallen books. He held them out for her as she hesitantly reached for them. It was strange to see a simple gesture of concern come from this selfish, pureblood wizard. Hermione held the books close to her chest like a shield to protect her from Draco's unusually soft expression.

A small smile turned up his lips. Draco slowly turned to walk away but he stopped. He looked back for a moment with that same smile.

"I hope I run into you again sometime… Hermione."

As the blonde receded into the distance the witch felt all of the air in her lungs leave with him. She was beginning to have all sorts of regrets about the past month. She clenched her fist as she wondered why. Why did she really get back together with Ron? Why was Draco pursuing her so suddenly? And of course, why did she feel so tied up in knots?

In her heart she knew the answers. Like little whispers in her ears the truth was making itself present with gentle tickles against her consciousness. The question now was: would she acknowledge it?

And what would become of them if she did?

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><p>And so the question 'why?' is not something only Draco wonders about now :)<p>

See you next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Another chapter done :) A little longer this time.

Hermione has another encounter with her not-so-secret admirer.

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><p>The next few days passed by uneventfully as Draco waited in the wings. Lately he had found himself wringing his hands, grinding his teeth, as well as falling prey to a number of other nervous ticks. His plan had been set into motion.<p>

Thinking back Draco couldn't help but feel flustered. During his last encounter with Hermione he had acted somewhat out of character. Sure some of the sweet nothings he whispered were part of his suave charm, but the other parts… They were _painfully_ awkward compared to his normal cool and refined personality. Honest and meaningful yes, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing.

Draco truly did hope that he would run into Hermione again. It was all part of his plan, and although the thought of being that unguarded with his statements made Draco wince he knew he had to do it.

If Hermione wanted a good guy that was what she'd get. At least until Draco followed his true calling as a Death Eater.

It was all a ruse. Draco was quite proud of himself for this idea despite its humiliating requirements. This was sure to win her over. If her doe-eyed expression from their last encounter was any indication, Draco would soon have her back in his arms.

His arms _only_ to be exact. He hadn't worked out how he would pay Weasley back for his (probably unintentional) meddling but he would make sure that it was unthinkably horrible. Draco sat back against a soft armchair in the Slytherin Common Room, tapping his wand to his chin as he envisioned all of the possible curses and jinxes in his arsenal. It brought a smile to his face.

Suddenly he heard his watch buzz against his wrist. He glanced at the time and stowed his wand in his pocket for the time being, as well as postponing his wicked imaginings.

It was time for him to get in position.

…

After collecting some of the rare extra credit work that Snape made optional in Advanced Potions, Hermione exited the classroom. She made doubly sure to check her surroundings before stepping out into the open. After all, a certain serpent-crested house resided somewhere in the bowels of the dungeon.

Hermione had been slightly on edge for the past few days. She was jumping at shadows and always looking over her shoulder. It was unusual for her to do and some were starting to notice. She shrugged it off as nothing to those who asked but in truth she had been anxiously awaiting another sudden appearance by her former tutoring partner.

She pressed a finger to her chin and momentarily contemplated if she was really 'anxiously awaiting' or 'dreading' another encounter. She surmised it was a mixture of both. She had to admit that his spur of the moment advance had roused old feelings and had definitely made her think of him more than she had been.

But Hermione wasn't stupid. That was _exactly_ what Draco wanted. Hermione had realized this as soon as she had returned to solid ground after his heart throbbing teasing the other day. Why else would he be back to see her after she had infuriated him so much?

She could tell in an instant that not only did Draco probably miss the sex, but she was sure that his pride and inability to accept rejection or defeat was wrapped into his pursuit as well.

Hermione sighed as she began to make her way to the upper floors of Hogwarts castle. She had a feeling that she had woken a sleeping beast. A part of Hermione was satisfied that she had left such an impression. For Draco to be so willing to risk the humiliation of bringing up her leverage over him he must truly want back what she had thrown away.

…Thrown away.

Hermione paused on the stairs as those callous words passed through her mind. She felt as though she was caught between where she was at the beginning of all of this and where she was right now. This had all started because of a sick desire to manipulate and exact an embarrassing sort of revenge on Draco. Not to mention relieve some sexual urges she had entertained. If Hermione was honest with herself she had been impulsive, animalistic… even cruel.

But now… now she didn't find as much pleasure in acting like that anymore. As much as she wished to ignore it, the fact was that Draco was also a human being. A living, breathing person who had feelings of his own that could be hurt. Had been hurt. At least, that's what his actions seemed to portray.

Hermione began to run her fingers through her hair, pausing at the base of her skull, pressing her cold palms to the warmth as she took a few deep breaths, her eyes closed.

What had she done?

This was so unlike anything she had ever done. So unlike _her_. And now she had to face the consequences.

When she had opened herself up to Draco physically she didn't realize that she would become ensnared by more that his body. She didn't mean his personality. He hadn't really changed. But being that close with someone made her realize that he wasn't just another Slytherin. Another pureblood elitist who seemed to only exist to torment her and her friends. He wasn't just a Malfoy or a future Death Eater.

He was someone who had touched her so intimately that she had melted in his arms. He had always been so acquiescent even though she often demeaned him. They often competed with their sharp tongues in a battle of insults. Much to Hermione's behest the banter was at times enjoyable.

His fingers were hungry. His lips were magical. And his eyes… even though Hermione could barely keep her own eyelids up she often cracked open her eyes slightly and saw Draco staring at her. He drank her in like she might disappear. The intensity that flashed in those silver slivers that framed his dilated pupils was unforgettable.

Hermione was petrified to put a name to the feeling behind his gaze. If it was anyone else she could easily describe it. That heated glance. More than just lust. It was scouring her body for clues. Those searching eyes. Was Draco really looking for what Hermione thought he was? Could someone like him even consider such a feeling for someone like her? Was he really…?

Several muffled footsteps snapped Hermione out of her thought process. She removed her fingers from her wavy hair and rubbed her arms, trying to rid herself of the chill that had just passed over her. She continued up the stairs, shaking her head.

It wasn't possible.

This wasn't some silly fantasy. There was no happily ever after to a story like this. Hermione knew in her mind that it would be better, safer to just put this behind her. She had to. She would not let the flutterings in her heart have dominion over her coveted logic.

Hermione quickened her pace up the stone steps. She needed to return to her common room. She wanted a distraction. She was sure that if she just separated herself from these ridiculous concerns long enough she would come to her senses.

She heard the footsteps from earlier draw closer and she automatically looked up as the spiral of the staircase led her upwards. She lurched to a halt. She couldn't keep the shock from appearing on her face. There in the dwindling sunlight that passed through the small windows on the dungeon staircase stood Draco. His blonde hair was almost white as the light scattered across him. He caught her eyes for a moment but Hermione quickly looked down, taking in every detail of her own shoes.

Why was he here? Why does Draco have to be here now?

Hermione felt her throat tighten uncomfortably. She took shallow breaths and she clenched her fists. She quickly returned to ascending the staircase. She hoped ludicrously that if she just kept walking, just avoided eye contact she could walk past him undisturbed.

She felt her lungs laboring in her chest, her nerve endings tingling like she was being poked with tiny needles. Her eyes drilled into the gray steps as she worked hard to ignore the wizard just a few feet above her. She could feel herself coming closer to him. She remembered his passionate touches and the comforting sensation of his body heat and it seemed to be surrounding her. Her skin was throbbing, as if all of the places he had ever touched had been marked, burned into her corporeal memory. Hermione blinked rapidly, trying to clear the images from her brain as they rushed in front of her eyes. She couldn't focus. She could hardly breathe. The suspense was mounting.

"Hermione."

The startled witch stopped. Not only had the sudden whisper of her own name make her falter in her ascent but Draco had also stepped into the middle of the step, blocking her path.

Hermione stood there, still in shock. Her eyes rose a little but she forced them to stop. She felt her vision blur a bit as she lost herself in the perfectly unwrinkled black of Draco's pant leg. She refused to reply. She was afraid of what would come next.

"Hermione," Draco softly spoke for the second time.

Hermione flinched and cursed herself for it. Why did he have to keep calling her by name so tenderly? She clenched her teeth and remained silent, three steps below where Draco was standing.

"Hermione. Look at me."

Hermione was taken back by the gentle, pleading tone in his voice but she shook her head. Refusing to meet his eyes. She heard a stifled chuckle and her head snapped up, furious that he thought all of this was funny. She opened her mouth to tell him off but the words got stuck in her throat.

Draco swiftly stepped down two steps before Hermione could react. She felt his warm palm ghost against her neck, slipping under her ear into her hair. She felt a shiver resonate through her and she heard herself gasp sharply.

Then his mouth was on hers. Almost. Draco's soft lips ran from one side of her bottom lip to the other, sucking lightly on the plumpest part. Hermione opened her mouth without meaning to, the subtlety of his movement coming as a surprise. Draco took advantage of this and pressed his lips closer. Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as they molded together.

He moved achingly slow. He placed kiss after kiss against her flushed lips, his tongue occasionally running across her lower lip. Hermione felt her heart race. She was becoming breathless. All coherent thought became utter mush as his lips pressed, rubbed, and moved against her own.

Everything was so warm. She was sure her face was bright red, but she wasn't sure how as all of the blood in her body rushed lower. Hermione felt as though she was struggling in quicksand. She felt light headed and she was finding it hard to keep up with Draco. He seemed to suck the very life from her.

But she couldn't stop. This kiss was unlike the chaste or rough kisses they had previously shared. This was slow and sticky sweet like dripping molasses. He was truly savoring her. Draco moaned quietly against her lips and Hermione's knees almost buckled. She hummed in reply.

Her fingers twitched anxiously. She couldn't decide what to do first. She wanted to run her fingers through his silky hair, drag her nails down his chest, and loosen his belt. She wanted all of it, even more than before if that were possible… yet she hesitated.

Had she lost the right to do so?

Had she truly lost the right to touch Draco like she had before? Somewhere deep in her heart, despite her body's screaming protests she felt like she had. She clenched her fist, still undecided.

After one last nip at her bottom lip Draco pulled away, licking his glistening lips. He caught Hermione's eyes as they slowly opened, his gaze bottomless. She found herself being pulled in. There was an answer in those eyes. Draco was trying to tell her something.

Or was it just wishful thinking?

The blonde slowly slid his fingers from their place at her neck, his smooth palm that had never seen a day of work gently caressing her jaw. He seemed to waver a moment, pausing to trace his thumb over her chin and then her bottom lip. Hermione was frozen, a blush rising to her cheeks as Draco stared at her lips with a dreamy expression.

Then he blinked rapidly, realizing where he was and what he was doing. He released his hold and moved away from her, continuing down the stairs. Hermione held her hands together, pressing them to her chest, trying to hold her heart down, keeping it from fluttering away. As his steps disappeared into the distance she found herself looking down the stairs after him. She could no longer see him but her blood still stirred, her lips were still wet, and her legs were still weak. All of it proof that he had been there and it wasn't just a dream.

After a long silence, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, Hermione slowly continued up the stairs.

One thing was for sure amidst all the confusion: she was going to need a bigger distraction to put this in the back of her mind.

…

Draco dove into his four-poster bed with enough force to send it scrapping across the floor a few inches.

"OUT!" He snarled at the handful of Slytherins loitering in the dorm room. He heard them all scatter their multiple footsteps receding and the heavy wooden door slamming shut.

Draco ripped his shirt open and kicked his shoes to the floor, ignoring the buttons that scattered around the room. He slid his hand to his belt all the while Hermione's lips appeared in his mind's eye, two soft, pink crescents that only served to taunt him.

He stroked himself roughly, the desire he felt completely outweighing his restraint. He wanted her. Her wanted her _so_ much. She was just so… Draco bit his lip, the right adjective eluding him.

She was infuriating. Irritating. Her tongue was wickedly sharp when she spoke but it was miraculously soft and impassioned at other times. Her body often stiff when she cocked her hip (as she often did when he angered her) would slink across his, like liquid velvet. She consumed him, her lust a blazing fire. It was incredible to imagine someone so straight laced coming undone at his heated caress.

He missed her dearly. Draco hated to admit it but it was hard to ignore as he touched himself with such need after a simple kiss.

No… not exactly simple. It had been complex and deliberate. Draco had planned each movement to say 'here I am, kind and caring.' He wanted Hermione to believe that he was truly good. More like her ideal partner. He would do anything if it meant he could have her one more time.

Even as Draco thought this it wasn't nearly as frightening as it should have been. Yes, he wanted her for a variety of reasons, but there was more to it than that. It wasn't just to one up Weasley, or to assert his dominance, or even just for the sex. Draco could feel it blossom even against his vehement refusal.

He wanted Hermione to be _his_.

But most of all he wanted her to _choose_ him. Over anyone else.

Draco smirked, wondering if that desire stemmed from a demented need to possess his sexual partners. To rule them. But as his breath hitched and he felt his pulse grow stronger against his palm he knew he had never wanted anyone this forcefully.

Draco thought of Hermione's body, losing himself in the sensation. All of the familiar curves and dips, soft skin, taunt muscles, and even softer, more delicate areas. The wizard groaned, his head lulling back as he thrust slightly into his own palm. His heart beat faster as he remembered how he would slid his fingers into her hair when ever he kissed her, the way her eyes would close slowly and a whisper of pleasure would pass from her lips to his own.

With a loud groan Draco came, his whole body shivering. He sunk into his bed and panted heavily, feeling as though he was unraveling at the seams. He felt the hot coil in his stomach unwinding, his sweat becoming cold against his heated body.

Draco sighed from exhaustion. He wondered if he could survive this amount of restraint for much longer. How much longer would it take to entice Hermione back? That was the question that made Draco anxious and nervous. Those feelings did not sit well with him. Who was this insignificant mudblood witch to make him…

Draco's thoughts trailed off. He didn't have the energy to mentally insult Hermione now. Or at least that's all he would admit to. He didn't want to delve too deep and realize he was no longer thinking badly of her for other reasons.

So he sat up and began to clean up his mess. He decided he should head to bed soon. He was going to need his rest if he was going to continue his plans throughout the rest of the week.

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><p>Look forward to many surprise encounters from Draco :) Winning over a stuborn witch is a lot of work.<p>

R&R&Enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Ah it feels like forever since I last uploaded something... because it has been. Oh writer's block how I hate you. I will be trying to update this little story more frequently now that I have tackled this surprisingly difficult chapter. I appreciate your patience!

This will be the second in consecutive surprise encounters. Will Draco succeed in creating a new image for himself to please Hermione?

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><p>Tuesday<p>

Draco slipped into the Herbology Green Houses unseen. It was a hot, late afternoon and Hermione had plant care duties that day. As the blonde slinked from stone wall to stone wall as quietly as a shadow he felt a little uneasy about keeping tabs on Hermione like this. He was borderline stalking her.

He gulped nervously as he neared the far room, detecting movement within the potted forest of odd foliage creatures and flowers. He stood on his tiptoes to look through the foggy glass over the tall trees and shrubs. His breath fogged up the glass a little as he located the witch he was looking for. She had her hips at an angle, a casual stance as she sprayed water all over the plants. One plant in particular animatedly drank up the water, pausing to brush its leafy arms against itself, mimicking a human in a shower.

Draco felt his eyebrow rise in surprise at the strange behavior but he noticed that Hermione smiled as she watched the plant creature move. She lowered the hose for a moment and reached into a bucket on the table. She pulled out a small handful of pellets and she laughed as the plant's stamen flopped out like a tongue from the petals that made up its mouth. She tossed a few to the peculiar plant and it snapped them up promptly. Hermione gave it a little pat on its… head? Draco still thought this whole thing was a little strange. Herbology was another one of those subjects that didn't interest Draco. Too much mess.

But Hermione seemed to enjoy this. There was definitely a difference between her demeanor normally and her demeanor in these green houses. It was similar to when she was studying or enjoying a lecture in class. She made learning look almost pleasant. Draco had to admit it was… nice. This calm and cheerful nature of hers. Although he immediately felt a little inferior. Draco knew he couldn't get that sort of emotion from her…

But he shook his head, falling back on his heels to give his toes a rest. There _were_ things only he could do for her. He had to keep reminding himself of this, especially since he was there to prove it to her. That's all that mattered anyway.

_She_ had to know what Draco was capable of.

And never forget.

Determined, Draco approached the door, peeking in slightly, trying to maintain the element of surprise. Hermione had her back to him as she continued to water the plants. He began to advance quietly. Each step was cautious as he planted his feet securely in the gravel. He managed to get about a yard away from her when he realized he wasn't sure how he wanted to initiate things.

He froze, holding his breath. Should he say something? Touch her? Grab her? So much for his plan, Draco thought. He clenched his fists. Either way he had to act quickly. He did not want to be discovered in this awkward mid-sneak position. With a deep breath Draco stepped forward and placed his hand gingerly on her waist preparing to spin her around.

Hermione whirled around with a shrill shriek. She pressed her thumb over the hose's nozzle to concentrate the stream of water as she wielded it like a real weapon. Draco shielded his eyes but by the time he had he was already drenched. He stumbled away from the cold water but tripped over a large rock. He landed in the gravel, flicking his wet hair out of his eyes as he blinked through the trickles of water that ran down his face and dripped off his chin.

He stared up at Hermione, her expression of fear morphing into a mixture of irritation and surprise while his own became one of anger.

"What the hell?!" Draco shouted accusingly, his embarrassment fueling his fury. His plans of being reserved and respectful and good flew out the window along with his poise. Hermione gawked at him for a moment but her eyebrows quickly furrowed and she threw down the hose.

"I could say the same thing to you!" She shouted pointing down at him, the other hand on her hip. "This is your own fault anyway! You're the one who keeps sneaking up on me!"

Draco clenched his teeth as he sat seething. What she said was true but he didn't like the way it sounded. It made him sound just a little bit pathetic and that was something that rubbed Draco the wrong way. After all he was trying to be the suave seducer, not the sad stalker. He glanced around flustered trying to think of some way to get his advance back on track or at least come up with a distraction.

Then he saw it.

In a flash Draco scooped up a pail full of water and flung the liquid in Hermione's direction. He had to admit that this was more of a way to get revenge rather than gain him the upper hand. And, in hindsight, it was a severe step backwards when it came to creating his new image. Oh well.

She jumped back, her feet tangling up in the hose as she fell backwards. She gasped and tensed up as the wall of water hit her straight on. Draco held back a satisfied snicker. A string of obscenities escaped Hermione's lips as she brushed her wet hair back. She stood abruptly, marching purposefully towards the door attempting to pass Draco by.

The blonde reached out and grabbed Hermione's skirt. He would be damned if he was going to let her leave now. He looked up at her as she balled her fists in the fabric of her skirt, keeping herself concealed. Her venomous glare settled unflinchingly on Draco and he could see her jaw tightening.

The young wizard took a moment to muse about the fact that almost two months ago his cheek would be stinging from a furious slap if he had grabbed Hermione's skirt so brazenly. Despite Hermione's rejection, Draco could tell that there was still a certain level of familiar comfort for the witch even with the possibility of Draco seeing a private region of her body. However his attention was immediately stolen away from his thoughts as something far more interesting took their place. As Draco took her in he felt a blush creep across his wet cheeks.

"Pink… that's a nice choice," Draco said simply, the view hypnotizing.

Hermione glanced down at herself and saw her bra clearly through her wet button up shirt. She gave an exasperated growl, muttering a few things about the immaturity of men before attempting to walk off again.

"No, no," Draco pursued, getting up on his knees so he could hold her hips with both hands. "I'm not making a joke." Hermione hesitated; Draco looked up and saw her conflicted expression. He knew he had her right on the edge now.

"It reminds me of other pink things…" the blonde trailed off, his voice thick with desire, as his thumbs inched her skirt up slightly. He felt himself shiver as he saw a small flash of red. His grip tightened instinctually as he looked up to meet Hermione's eyes, silently asking for permission. Hermione bit her lower lip and Draco took this moment of indecision to slide his hands under her skirt completely and lift it up.

"Merlin, I've missed this," Draco groaned as his wandering hands cupped Hermione's lower curves, tugging her closer to his lips. He felt his cock twitch as he thought of the heat hidden deep inside of her, underneath that red lace. He wanted to taste it.

"Malfoy," Hermione panted halting Draco by sliding a hand in his hair, "No… just, no."

Draco huffed, glaring up at her. Even though she was avoiding his eyes one look at her face told him she wasn't serious about her refusal. At least her body wasn't. Draco felt that it was time for him to be a little more forceful. He stood quickly and began removing his shirt. Hermione scuffled back in shock.

"It's not fair of you to do this to me," Draco accused as he threw his soggy shirt to the ground. He advanced on Hermione at an angle that made her back up into an old wooden table. "_You_ made me all wet," Draco murmured as he got closer, his tone taking on that familiar and comfortable tone of lust combined with a husky rumble from the pit of his stomach. He looped his arm around Hermione's waist and lifted her onto the table, his other hand sliding along her upper leg.

"At least let me return the favor," Draco purred, his dark eyes locked with Hermione's. He felt her tremble and it passed through his own body as well. He pressed his lips to hers, the hand on her leg roaming. He let her lie back, never breaking the kiss as he continued to let his fingers search.

As his hand continued forward he thought back to his plan and hadn't anticipated doing this much this quickly. This was supposed to be a slow courting process. But he had let his yearnings get the better of him. For the amount of time he spent fantasizing about moments like these anyone could easily point out that he was becoming obsessed. Draco had been thinking of Hermione every day, every hour, and during most of the minutes that passed him by in this otherwise dreary castle.

He lusted after her.

He craved her touch.

He wanted her desperately.

He even…

Wait… He didn't… _need_ her did he?

Draco caught himself before admitting to such an embarrassing thought. He faltered for a moment and stopped kissing her. He looked deeply into Hermione's eyes as they slowly began to open. He saw her falter as well. He could see the gears turning behind her eyes. Hesitation began to warp her expression.

This made Draco snap out of his trance. He dove back into the kiss, teasing her lower lip with his tongue and pulling her closer so they could be pressed together.

Now was not the time to question things. He had to stay firm in his advances and unwavering in the face of his doubts. Draco had to prove to Hermione that she was missing out on something special. _He_ was the one who had to start things this time. _He_ had to have an almost ridiculous air of confidence this time when he approached Hermione.

She _would_ be his again.

For as long as possible.

Draco gently pulled his lips from hers, pressing them against her throat. He used his teeth to graze her vulnerable skin, goose bumps erupting under his tongue. As he moved downward the wet fabric of her shirt obstructed him. He removed his lips and skimmed over her body with his eyes and hands, gliding smoothly from chest to waist to hips. He scooted Hermione's skirt up, revealing her small red underwear.

A shiver started at Draco's fingers and resonated up his arms across his shoulders and rippled down his back. He took a deep breath, the exhale sounding like a whiny moan as he stared intensely at Hermione. He could see her begin to fidget slightly under such deliberate scrutiny. He stooped low, his knees adjusting to a comfortable position in the gravel.

He swallowed the drool collecting in his mouth as the thought of pleasuring her overwhelmed him. He wanted her to scream, tousle his hair with desperate fingers, and most of all he wanted to draw a mind-bending orgasm from her soft, tantalizing flesh.

Which was already wet. Draco noticed the damp fabric upon closer inspection. His face felt as if it had burst into flames, a furious blush turning his pale skin rosy. A million thoughts bloomed in his head about past meetings like this, how her excitement always sent a jolt of arousal straight to the tight coil in his belly, and how she was still stirred by him.

Merlin, he wanted her.

He bit his tongue trying desperately to move at a pace that seemed pain staking slow in the moment. It took all he could to keep himself from burying his tongue inside of her. He nuzzled his lips against the damp area of her lacy undergarment, briefly wondering if she had worn something so risqué in anticipation of his advances.

He proceeded to kiss her slowly, groaning against her in response to her initial ragged inhale and all the small moans thereafter. He ran his tongue against the fabric, feeling a great deal of contempt for the obtrusive, although flattering, article of clothing. To keep himself from going overboard he slid his hands to rest against her thighs as a way of anchoring himself to reality. He could easily get lost in the humid fog that was swirling behind his closed eyes.

His tongue almost felt cold in comparison to the warmth that he felt against his lips. This made a dizzying thought swirl around in Draco's subconscious. He imagined how wonderful it would feel if he were inside her. Their previous meetings attested to how hot and tight and divine it would be to slowly, oh so slowly…

Draco swallowed thickly a low growl filling his throat. Draco slid one hand from Hermione's thigh to the raised fabric of his trousers. He touched himself, trying to keep himself from doing what he really wanted to. It wasn't as distracting as Draco had hoped. The throbbing he felt against his palm only made him wish he could feel Hermione's pulse surround him.

He stood up from the gravel, his knees aching slightly. He could feel his will power snap like a dry stick. Draco gripped Hermione's hips and slid her to the edge of the table pressing his arousal against hers a shudder racking his body. He moved his hand his button and zipper, all of his planning be damned.

"M-malfoy?" Hermione stuttered in confusion, her hazy eyes trying to focus.

Draco's heart fluttered as he looked into her brown eyes darkened by lust, her warm pulse detectible even through layers of fabric. He braced himself against the table, his hands on either side of Hermione, the tips of his fingers brushing the halo of golden brown hair splayed across the wood. He could hardly stand it, he felt his lips quiver, her name on the tip of his tongue and ready to tumble from him in a breathless moan.

"Hermione," Draco whispered desperately, leaning down to kiss her. He felt her tremble beneath him at the sound of her name being articulated with his voice. Her wet lips parted in anticipation.

Suddenly a loud crash echoed from outside the green house. Draco lurched away from Hermione his heart pounding against his rip cage. Hermione also sat up abruptly, adjusting her skirt and straightening her blouse. As she slid off the table trying to decide on a stance that seemed nonchalant (one that didn't betray the telltale look of disheveled hair, redden lips, and flushed cheeks) Draco quickly retrieved his still damp shirt and buttoned it as quickly as possible.

As stupid as he felt he looked, Draco knew that he needed to take his leave immediately as shuffled foot steps made their way to the door. He felt that one look at the two of them would be worth a thousand words and their secret would become much less than private. He cast one last fleeting glance at Hermione before purposely marching towards the exit.

"Hermione? Sorry to bother you but have you seen Trevor?" Poor, unsuspecting Neville poked his head in the door to inquire before being taken off guard by a furious, leering Draco. He jumped back but not quickly enough. The Slytherin's shoulder made solid contact with Neville's causing him to fall to the ground. Without stopping Draco glared venomously down.

"Watch it!" Draco growled fiercely through clenched teeth, picking up the pace as he headed back to his dorm room, embarrassed and defeated not to mention unsatisfied.

However, as angry as he was he couldn't let it distract him from tomorrow. Or the rest of the week for that matter. Draco had to temporarily swallow his rage if he was to make any headway at all. After this encounter he had a lot to make up for. With a deep breath Draco began to plan out the next day… and entertain thoughts of making Neville pay.

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><p>Poor Neville. He has no idea what his clumsiness has done :)<p>

Now on to Wednesday. I think these two will rendezvous in the potions classroom next ;)

Also if anyone has suggestions for settings of future chapters I would be more than happy to use them!

R&R&Enjoy


	5. Chapter 5

Ahh well what can I say? For those of you who have been following this story it really has been a long time. I've been taking a hard look at my writing style this past year and some odd months. Although I do enjoy the cheesy, romantic bits I also have been having a hard time grappling with the serious side.  
>Its like when you look at something you drew a long time ago. You remember it looking good but when you see it again with some perspective you realize it wasn't so great. Anyway, that's the shit I'm dealing with now.<br>In truth I have actually almost finished this story but I have been hesitant to post the rest. I have been putting it under intense scrutiny. I know this chapter is short but I hope it doesn't disappoint. I think in order to grow these characters I am going to have to put some of the fun aside for a bit in favor of some drama. Things are going to get a bit more real.  
>I promise the fun will return eventually, though :)<p>

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><p>Wednesday<p>

Just after lunch the next day, Hermione felt her fingers shake as she lifted and poured different potions into her bubbling cauldron. She took a deep breath to calm herself but it did little good with the events of yesterday still fresh in her mind. She was caught between being completely speechless or having a million thoughts fluttering around in her head like that deck of cards Draco had transfigured so long ago. She held her head in one hand as she stirred her potion idly with the other. She took a deep breath and began to muse, ever so slowly, so as not to unleash the flood in her mind.

Hermione thought of what she knew: Draco was a spoiled, only child. He wanted what he wanted and would stop at nothing to have it. In this case the object of his desire was obvious. His advances made that perfectly clear. Also, being who he was, he didn't take kindly to being snubbed (one example being Harry's refusal of his friendship at the beginning of their first year). As of now these facts were all that Hermione could be certain of.

So the question that remained was what was the purpose to all of this? Was it purely a result of Draco's anger and selfishness? Logically Hermione knew that should be true. But something about Draco's actions was off. Almost everything he did had a sort of… need to it.

Desperation.

But what was driving it? Certainly he could just be desperate to prove he could still have her. Running an anxious hand through her hair she reasoned that that would be more than enough to inspire him to pursue her. But what of that sweet smile? When he picked up her books and told her that he hoped to see her again. Or that gentle kiss in the stairwell. It was far too sweet for Draco.

The brazenness of his actions in the greenhouses proved that the sweetness was a façade. He couldn't keep up his little act when Hermione had the upper hand. And yet his words held more honesty than usual. It would seem that he was willing to say anything to win her over. Hermione didn't like that. If that were the case he would most definitely have to lie at some point. Or maybe she was just imagining things… Draco was not honest by nature, lest of all to Hermione. Perhaps it was all part of his act.

Hermione's chest ached. She hadn't wanted this. She had had no idea at the time what repercussions would surface from her less than reputable tutoring sessions. This was the path less travelled. Unsafe territory without a discernable foothold. She should have never forsaken her comfortable life of goodness, assisting Harry in his amazingly important destiny and holding Ron's hand through out the hardships. Though now it all seemed a distant dream. Her fate had been soured in her eyes. Even if she returned to the light she could never forget her tryst with darkness. She had tasted a whole different possible future and now her previous hopes and dreams seemed so small. Not that protecting the Chosen One was a small task, but once the impending war came to a resolution, what then? What would her future hold then? A burrow full of red headed children? Housework and motherly duties? It certainly seemed like her life would hurdle in that direction if tensions between You-Know-Who ended in their favor.

The smell of burnt potion rose up from Hermione's cauldron and made her sneeze. She flicked out the fire with her wand and quickly levitated her ruined concoction to a nearby sink. She chastised herself for letting her thoughts preoccupy her.

She turned on the faucet and let cool water dowse the hot metal, steam rising up to the dungeon ceiling. She tilted her head away from the smoke, the burnt smell making her eyes water. As Hermione waited for the cauldron to cool she thought of why she was so conflicted.

In truth, she was so undecided because, although she often wished it, she didn't want to forget her time spent with Draco. With him she didn't have to be good or kind at all times. In fact she was often ill tempered and quick to insult. She knew she had flaws that Harry and Ron either didn't see or refused to acknowledge. Draco didn't give a damn. Her would even match her fury. He wasn't hurt as easily as Harry or Ron when her words became heated. He made her feel all right about not being perfect, although he probably had no intention to.

Hermione sighed and began to scrub her cauldron clean. She heard another student lower a cauldron into the adjacent sink and she glanced over. She saw that it was Neville cleaning his cauldron of another ruined potion. He looked over and immediately blushed, snapping his gaze away from Hermione. She rolled her eyes, thinking back to yesterday when Neville had been the second boy to catch a glimpse of her bra through her wet shirt. Honestly, the immaturity of his reaction was aggravating. They were practically one year away from graduating and being recognized as adults in the wizarding world.

Hermione shook her cauldron free of water and levitated it back to her station. She began mixing her potion again, attempting to focus on the task at hand. However, the thought of her impending adulthood made her stomach sink. If Draco truly intended to pursue her how would that look outside of Hogwarts? Hermione reasoned that he probably wasn't _that_ dedicated. But strange thoughts began to creep into her head. She imagined how strange it would be for the two of them to date or walk down the street together or eat a civil meal with one another. How ridiculous would they look…

The vial in Hermione's hand suddenly slipped and crashed on the floor. It finally donned on her how preposterous her thoughts were becoming. Had she actually just pictured the two of them in a relationship? Had she actually used the word 'date'? With Draco Malfoy in mind?!

_That_ was absurd.

Hermione shook herself from her stupor and began to pick up the broken glass. Many students were staring over, shocked that the unshakable Hermione had dropped a glass not to mention burnt a potion and in the same class period. She swept up her station and dumped the shards of glass onto the garbage. She then packed up her things and shuffled quickly over to Professor Slughorn, requesting a sick leave for the day. He agreed easily having also noticed Hermione's uncharacteristic behavior.

Hermione rushed towards the Gryffindor dorms as soon as she stepped outside of the classroom. The halls were empty. Her accent was uninterrupted. The only sounds she heard were the murmurs of lessons in progress and her own shoes clacking against stone.

She couldn't believe the delusions she was entertaining. She was sure if she just gave herself some time alone with her thoughts she could sort this out. These feelings were simply a result of her time being spent unwisely. She desperately needed to get back on track.

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><p>So Hermione has some thinking to do. How will Draco cope with her decision?<p>

R&R&Enjoy.


	6. Chapter 6

So a new day dawns and Hermione takes drastic measures. How will it all pan out? Just ask Draco...

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><p>Thursday<p>

Draco had spent the past few hours scouring the castle, even missing the delicious dinner feast. He wagered it would be worth it if he could locate Hermione. The day before she was nowhere to be found. The castle gossip was that she had taken a sick leave from her classes. She was reportedly quite shaken by something during potions class. Draco smiled, knowing what that something was.

Draco stared up the long staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower. It was the only place left to look. He desperately hoped he hadn't missed her although it was entirely possible considering the size and complexity of Hogwarts Castle. Draco's calves were already aching as he climbed yet more stairs. He tried to distract himself by contemplating his pursuit. Draco was caught between following through with a calculated advance or playing things by ear depending on the situation. He was quite confident in his words and actions but he also wanted to remain flexible. When courting someone like Hermione Granger things could very quickly derail.

Reaching the top of the stairs Draco doubled over panting, trying to catch his breath before entering the room where Hermione hopefully was. After a few minutes of slow, deep inhales Draco straightened up, ready to tackle the task ahead. He approached the door, noticing that it was slightly ajar. He pushed gently against it and miraculously it opened without a squeak from the ancient hinges.

Lilac and honeysuckle.

Again Draco could smell that telltale aroma as a breeze wafted past him. He stared towards the window, the brilliant orange light signaling the setting sun. Through squinted eyes he could see the outline of someone by the window.

It was a familiar outline and Draco knew his search for Hermione had come to an end. He casually walked over to her. She didn't turn around to see who it was. He was probably the only person she knew who wouldn't announce his presence instantly. For a moment the two stood by the open window, squinting at the light of the sunset, as the sky grew darker.

Draco shaded his eyes and glanced over at her. He felt cold rush over him. She looked as though she had been crying. His tongue felt dry. If there was one thing he wasn't equipped to handle it was tears. He had always been horrendously awkward when it came to comforting others. He worried his lip between his teeth wondering what to say.

"Are you… ok?"

Draco winced at the sound of his own voice. He could hear how nervous and stupid he sounded. He was out of his element. Hermione was always the first to speak, the first to act. He couldn't recall a time when he had to coax a word out of her. This was certainly not a dynamic Draco could have ever imagined happening between the two of them. What had caused this sudden stiffness? Draco had been under the impression that things were going well.

"Is that really the question you want to ask?" Hermione responded dryly, her voice sounding empty. Draco watched her profile tensely. This was clearly _not_ going well. He fidgeted for a moment before reaching out and placing a hand on her back. He reasoned that it would be best to stick to what he knew: the physical. If he didn't get the ball rolling this weird atmosphere would make it impossible to move forward.

"Yes. Just tell me if there's anything wrong." Draco attempted a tone with some suavity, though his mind was racing. Hermione was uncharacteristically callous and Draco had no idea what to do with that. In all honesty it was leaving him far more flustered than any of their previous encounters. Something had changed with out his knowledge. He wasn't sure if it had been his influence or not. He hoped that if he just pushed through this situation could be manipulated to fit his plans. It had always worked before.

Hermione suddenly laughed, causing Draco to jump. He watched with something akin to fear as Hermione slowly looked over to meet his eyes.

"Are you trying to comfort me?" She asked quizzically, her curiosity seemed peaked. Draco felt some confidence return to him. Perhaps he was finally getting somewhere. He grabbed one of her hands and spun her to face him.

"Yes," he murmured, planting a kiss on the back of her hand. He looked up, hoping to see a surprised but overall happy expression. Hermione chuckled again, but it wasn't genuine. If anything she looked sad.

"Please don't. I don't like these games that we're playing."

"What's wrong with playing games? They're meant to be fun," Draco responded, taking hold of Hermione's waist and pulling her closer. He hoped to quickly gloss over her statement, to overwhelm her with his presence. It was the only thing he could depend on at this point. The only thing to bail water out of this sinking ship.

He leaned down to kiss her; his lips felt a tingle of urgency like never before. As if she was suddenly very far away from him. That was silly, though. He could feel her body pressed to his. She was right there in front of him.

He closed his eyes and expected to feel warmth and the plumpness of her mouth. His lips grazed her cheek and he felt hair tickle his noes. He pulled away and opened his eyes. Hermione had turned her head away. Draco felt his arms go slack in surprise. Hermione took advantage of that and stepped back.

"I know you're making an effort, Malfoy, but it's becoming a little obvious that it's a front."

Draco felt ice growing in his veins. It suddenly hit him just how dire the circumstances were. That awkwardness he had sensed when he entered the room was compounding. He was aware of it in a whole new way now. He could feel the room crowded with it, an atmosphere as physical as bodies crammed tightly together. Hermione held her position and pinned Draco to the spot with her expression. It seemed so strong, so resolved.

"All of these niceties… it's just a pretense, right? Trying to win me over by playing the role of the hero."

Draco could feel himself about to flounder.

He didn't have to process what was happening mentally, his body could _feel_ it.

His stomach was turning inside out, his throat twisting in knots.

His breathing felt uneven.

There had to be some way to salvage this situation, didn't there? To think the ground could disappear from beneath his feet so quickly. Only a few days ago she had been putty in his hands. Hadn't she? Or had he been wrong? Draco opened his mouth to assure her otherwise but she lifted up a hand and silenced him.

"Please, Malfoy, just tell me the truth. This is getting a little underhanded, even for you."

The sound of water rushed in his ears, in his hollow chest an echo of a tremble. Like a pebble cast down an empty well a faint clacking sound reverberated inside Draco's ribs. It was his heartbeat, he knew… though it felt hard, petrified.

He stared incredulously at Hermione. She wasn't giving him an inch. To think he had been so easily figured out.

"Was I that obvious?" Draco admitted, laughing awkwardly. He took a wobbly step back, feeling the air knocked out of him. The sound of water in his ears was replaced with ringing, his gaze falling to the floor.

"I have enough heroes in my life, Malfoy. I can tell when I'm faced with a fake," Hermione murmured.

Draco felt sick.

He was feeling abnormally stunned by this turn of events. He couldn't muster up a smart comment or make a haughty retreat.

"It's a bit ironic," Hermione continued, her stance firm, feet cemented. "The things I enjoyed about you… about this… had nothing to do with that nice guy image." This brought the blonde's attention snapping back to Hermione. His eyes widened as he saw Hermione blushing slightly as she looked straight at him, refusing to flinch. He swallowed thickly and waited.

"You are rude and obnoxious and I didn't have to be nice to you."

"Thanks," Draco answered sarcastically. He felt all of the air leave his lungs. More than air though, it was hope leaving his body too. He felt utterly defeated.

"It was refreshing. It made me happy," Hermione pushed. Great… now she was patronizing him.

"Why are you telling me this," Draco cut in abruptly, feeling his emotionless veneer cracking. He could hear the whine in his voice. Aggravation. Confusion. His head was spinning.

"I just… wanted you to know," Hermione answered, lacking a better explanation. "I'm sure you realize I'm cutting my ties with you. It didn't feel right for me to end this without telling you that."

Hot.

His throat was hot, acidic.

He swallowed hard and could feel his mouth twisting into a pathetic shape. The burn tore its way through his lungs, it nestled in his stomach.

"So… that's it?" Draco felt his face twitch into a snarl when he heard the warble in his voice. He sounded just as bad as he felt.

"I suppose so."

* * *

><p>Friday<p>

The sunlight was far too bright for it to be morning. Hermione realized that fact but was still unmoved. Today was a day to stay in bed.

Rolling over Hermione squinted at her alarm clock. It reflected the time, late afternoon, about an hour before the majority of classes where over. She felt anxiety curdling in her stomach. She didn't want to face anyone. She couldn't look anyone in the eye right now. Or maybe ever. She felt worse than the singed backside of a blast-ended skrewt.

She was faking sick for the first time in her life, something that she couldn't put out of her mind. That was hardly the major issue she was dealing with, though. Hermione had been tasked with breaking the heart of a dear friend and ending a fling with an enemy in the same day. She was sure karma would not be on her side ever again.

But she hadn't seen any other solution. After potions class earlier that week she realized how frighteningly real the situation was becoming. And this was something that wasn't meant to be real. Its only attraction was that it was forbidden. No one else knew but herself and Malfoy. There was a reason for that, Hermione knew. The very thought of them as an actual 'item' that she had entertained on Wednesday had traumatized her to the core. She couldn't allow that to happen. She would be abandoned by her friends, surely. They would think she had lost her bloody mind. Taking in a shaky breath Hermione tried to calm herself. She knew that by the end of the day she would have to compose herself and be ready to face tomorrow so as not to arouse suspicion.

'_I'll be back to normal tomorrow_,' Hermione repeated to herself over and over, like her mantra. In uneven waves it would soothe her. Then discourage her. She tried another mantra, '_It was for the right reasons_.'

Though she knew this phrase to be truthful it had a sharp bite. She had acknowledged that after considering her options she hadn't been happy with either one. Neither Ron nor Draco was completely right. Far from it, in fact.

That had to be the truth. She just knew it.

Flipping around many times she tried to find a comfortable sleeping position but to no avail. Nothing could stop making her think about her humiliation. A voice that had been buried deep was calling up to her. From the depths of her insides she could hear it resonating through her.

There was a reason why her decision was hitting her so hard.

Why she had spent the night crying and the day in bed.

There was a twisting pinch of regret. Of curiosity. Though she didn't want to be torn in two, there had been one direction that had pulled stronger than the other. Hermione shuddered as she came close to admitting it to herself. Though she was fully aware of the thought she was holding back from speaking it, from thinking it. To let the words fully form… It was too much to permit.

She had allowed herself to feel something.

Something that was unforgivable.

That was as much ground as she was willing to give as far as being truthful.

She let out a shaky cry of frustration to the empty dorm room. What had happened to her? She used to have an unflinching gut instinct. She wouldn't shy away from answering even the most difficult of questions. But now? She had compromised herself to chase after Draco Malfoy. To hold him, to touch him, to see a side of him she had never considered existed. If only he had known how forceful the pull would grow to be. How deeply she would be sucked in…

No, she couldn't allow herself to think that way. She wouldn't let the thought entirely imprint across her consciousness. She was content to let it burn against the back of her neck, branding her in a place where she couldn't see it.

She couldn't acknowledge it. She just couldn't.

'_I'll be back to normal tomorrow_,' she thought again as though it were a cure all. She reached for her wand and murmured, "Somnium." Immediately she could feel the spell take affect, her eyelids growing heavy.

She was certain; in time that smoldering phrase that blistered her neck would fade, as all things did. Just faint, raised lines would remain. With perspective Hermione could put it in the past. She wouldn't have the urge to touch that scar ever again.

* * *

><p>Somnium is latin for drowse as in drowsy for those of you who were curious.<p>

Now please don't kill me :) There is still much more to come.

Draco has a lot to think about that he has been putting off. I think this jolt from Hermione might be just what he needed.

R&R&Enjoy.


	7. Chapter 7

And so the awkwardness of seeing your ex(s) ensues. It's sure to be a great time.

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><p>Monday<p>

The week began again too quickly for Hermione's liking. She sat through her classes in a rare stupor. She concentrated on tapping her feet to a song or cleaning the dirt from under her nails, trying not to think. The lectures she attended seemed more like mild irritants rather than doors opening to knowledge and stories. She wanted nothing more than to return to her bed and sleep the day away.

She felt like a pariah. Though some of her friends, like Ginny and Luna, attempted to talk to her, she just wasn't good conversation today, or for the whole weekend. Without being able to budge her they left Hermione alone to work through whatever it was that was bothering her. She appreciated that, knowing that there was nothing that could help her through her two major problems. And they wouldn't just evaporate into thin air either.

The few times she had seen Ron around he had only frowned at her, avoided eye contact, and left the room to parts unknown. She expected as much. Harry, bless him, was trying to be empathetic to both injured parties, forever the peacekeeper in between their spats. He kept her company every so often but there was only so much she could really tell him. As far as Harry knew, Ron and she had broken up again, and that was it. He had no idea of the dark underbelly of the story.

Hermione had only seen Draco once. That experience had been more traumatic than a dozen Ron sightings. He wasn't the type to run, she discovered during the one class they shared together. He had sat a few seats in front of her and a few rows to the side. She could see him in her diagonal gaze with each glance. And there were a lot of glances.

From that semi visible profile Hermione could analyze so much. To make matters worse she couldn't be certain of any of her assumptions. She was certain she was too involved _not_ to read too much into every little tick and movement. Sometimes she would see his jaw tighten and read anger from it. Other times he would fiddle with his hair and she wondered if it was insecurity. Every so often he would rub his ear and his head would dip to the side. Was he sad? Hurt? So much for "returning to normal". Hermione wondered if Draco was as aware of her presence in the classroom as she was of his.

She got her answer before the lesson ended.

During one of her furtive peeks in Draco's direction Hermione realized that he was looking right back at her. She was so petrified that she couldn't command herself to look away. She simply waited for him to stop looking, their eyes locked uncomfortably.

He had turned his body slightly so that he was quite obviously not paying attention to the lecture. Fear drummed in Hermione's chest as she wondered if the teacher or anyone else would notice and point it out. She tried to keep her face matte, smooth, devoid of the panic she was feeling, though she was sure, at the very least, she looked awkward. How could she not?

Draco was staring her down, not masking any of the rage or irritation in his expression. He kept his eyes glued, seeming to be searching her for something, trying to figure her out. His cheeks looked flushed as his anger grew. He looked to be breathing a little shallow as well.

He let out a very undignified snort and turned back after what seemed like an eternity. Hermione felt air return to her lungs. She held her shaking hands together, trying not to think about all of the pure, saturated emotion in his eyes.

But the image was burned into her eyelids and she saw it every time she blinked.

Hermione felt like she was in her own personal hell and she couldn't deny that she belonged there.

* * *

><p>He felt so full. Stretched beyond his limits.<p>

Akin to a monster.

Inhuman.

The part of Draco's brain that held any sort of civility was out to lunch indefinitely. He was only aware of the hot magma flowing through his nerves. He felt fried, at his wits end. He was barely able to comprehend that he had attended class. All he had done was follow the different Slytherin classmates that usually escorted him everywhere, falling into the everyday schedule. His feet moved but his thoughts were seething, occupied by the rage that seemed to be all he was made up of, down to the atoms.

She was there with him. He knew it as soon as he entered the room. He saw her outline like it was sketched out in black charcoal on a white piece of paper. Her shoulders were slightly hunched as she sat at her desk; jotting down a few notes no doubt, completely unaffected.

He couldn't stand it.

He wanted her to feel him. To know that he was right there boring holes into her throughout the lesson. He wanted her to know what she had done. She was the one person he wanted to lash out at, but couldn't.

All he could do was catch her attention and try to convey himself silently. When he finally managed to hold her gaze he wasn't sure what it was he even wanted to convey. He was too blinded by red. It filled his head and weighted him down.

He just stared. Glared. Gnashing his teeth and wanting to bolt across desks to get to her. He didn't want to hurt her. He just wanted to make a scene. He wanted to scream, throw things around, and devolve into a child throwing a tantrum just so she would look at him with more than discomfort. More than cold indifference.

That was how she was looking at him now and it made his skin crawl. He snarled and turned back around in a huff, breaking eye contact. He needed to punch something, and he decided that he would as soon as class was over.

* * *

><p>Wednesday<p>

Draco awoke to the feeling of dull pain. He tried to move but it only accentuated the ache in all of his muscles. He stretched out anyway, holding back a groan as every cell in his body wailed in protest. He sat up slowly, the world twirling nauseatingly before his eyes. He felt like vomiting, but he needed to get up. To get moving. He decided to stop by the Hospital Wing for some medicine before finding a comfortable place to think. He had calmed down considerably since Monday. He figured that he should attempt some semblance of human activities rather than being overtaken by yesterday's monster.

He rifled through the chest at the end of his bed for clean clothes. His fingers were shaking with pain while he fastened the buttons of his shirt and pants. He glanced down at them. They were grotesque. Purple fighting for space between the murky red of dried blood and the yellow of swelled flesh. They didn't feel broken though he didn't have to worry for long. He would be all patched up in no time.

He shoved his damaged hands in his pockets, ignoring the shooting new pains vibrating through his bones. He stalked into the common room, glaring at the underclassmen and watching them scatter. He was happy that he could still do that much; striking fear into the meek. It didn't make him as happy as it should have though.

He took familiar hallways, his body on autopilot. Everything was blurring; people, portraits, corridors, all of it gray and uninteresting. He snuck into the Hospital Wing while Madame Pomfrey was out. He didn't want to explain himself or his injuries. He grabbed a few common pills that sped up healing from one of the shelves. Draco swallowed them without water, as they were small. No sooner had the pills dropped into his stomach did he grit his teeth and curse. He looked down at his hands and watched his flesh bubble. His skin slowly knitted back together and the purple hue was starting to fade. After the initial pain passed Draco noted that his knuckles looked red and a little raw but he had flexibility back and there was less pain.

He retreated before he could be discovered and decided to take refuge in the library. He located an alcove in the recesses of the ancient wing and took a seat on a cushiony armchair. He let his legs dangle over one of the arms while his back reclined over the other. He let out a sigh that had the same density as lead. His body sunk into the old leather and he crossed his arms, his fists clenched. He finally allowed his mind to wander.

After the events of Thursday Draco had spent his time lashing out at anything and anyone he could, hence his marred knuckles. Crabbe had a nasty black eye as a result and Goyle was sporting a few bruises. However both of them had seen how upset Draco had been so they practically offered themselves up as punching bags. Though the blonde was furious his rage trumped his actual physical strength. He was a pampered boy from old money after all. His delicate constitution didn't allow for much fist fighting. Not to mention punching people who didn't fight back had taken all of the satisfaction out of it. He had then resorted to beating inanimate objects but hard surfaces smarted and after a while the act of trying to strike walls and bookshelves just made Draco feel more pathetic.

He stared up, watching books flap like birds above him returning to their proper shelves. He wondered why he was so deflated, so devoid of fight both on Thursday and now. It hadn't been a problem for him before to let Hermione's hesitance or rejection roll off him.

But… last week it was different.

The look in her eyes… her flat, lifeless tone.

It felt as though she was truly finished.

Before Draco had been certain that he could warm her up to his affection, and he was right. However, Hermione hadn't been in the mood for any of it. With a sigh Draco admitted that even he couldn't win over someone who wasn't the least bit receptive to his advances. Despite his skills, Hermione had grown cold towards him.

Draco felt a familiar, stagnated rage worm its way up his throat. Why had she even bothered to tell him what she had specifically enjoyed about his company? Even now that was still throwing him for a loop. Was she simply throwing him a bone out of pity? If she wanted to cut all ties why bother? She made it quite clear that she didn't like their little arrangement anymore. Trying to console him with a consolation prize… it made Draco sick.

Yet… there was another part of him that was surprised by the admission. She had enjoyed his company as is without the latter tweaking he had done? As she clearly stated she 'had enough heroes in her life'. Draco wondered if he were just an interesting divergence from what she knew. That had certainly been the initial attraction for the both of them.

Biting his lip Draco could at least admit that things had changed between them a little bit since the beginning. It wasn't all about the forbidden anymore. Eventually they returned because it had become familiar. For Draco that was the case. It had been so good, so natural that Draco didn't want to let it go. If there hadn't been any chemistry Draco knew he wouldn't be struggling with the outcome so much. He wagered it was the same for Hermione. For someone as stubborn as her it had taken a long time for her to get to a point where she was certain about rejecting him. There had been a fair amount of waffling on both sides.

Should they, shouldn't they… In the end they had both decided they should despite where their mental negotiations took them.

And Draco still wanted to. He exhaled forcefully and folded up his knees in the chair, resting his forehead on them. He had never allowed himself to take this much abuse from a girl he'd consorted with. His interests had faded when things became stressful. Suffice it to say no other situation came close to this one in the amount of stress experienced on his part. Yet he still wanted back in.

He swallowed thickly, burying his face in his knees further, blocking out all light with his arms that he folded around his legs.

With a blush of embarrassment Draco had to admit that he didn't hate Hermione.

Not as much as he wanted to.

He wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point he had stopped caring that she was a mudblood, that she was in Gryffindor, that she was best friends with his sworn enemy. If he was being honest, she offered him something that meant more than those labels did. Draco grumbled loudly. His whole life had always been about labels; being rich rather than poor, being strong rather than weak, having pure blood rather than tainted blood. He felt as though he were steadily removing bricks from a castle, each one bringing it closer to ruin.

His hands grew clammy as he felt himself acknowledge a revelation that was growing more obvious. All of the ways he had defined himself up to this point seemed so insignificant. He only wanted one label now, though he had been too prideful to ask for it before.

_Hers_.

He wanted to be _hers_.

That was as far as he had thought it out. He'd deal with what dominos would fall in relation to that admonishment later.

"When the fuck did this happen?" Draco muttered, his question going unanswered. Sheepishly, he confessed to himself that it had started at the very beginning. He thought that he could always remain above his emotions in situations like these, but that hadn't been the case. He had once said that they were similar in some respects, ego and temper to be exact, though Hermione hid it better in certain circumstances.

Maybe that was what Hermione had been alluding to when she said she enjoyed certain parts of the real Draco. He had overheard her snap at her friends before and she could be truly standoffish if she wanted to be. Her typical company couldn't handle her explosions. Draco felt a smile tug at his lips despite the situation. They would fight like cats and dogs without fear of what the insults would do. They bounced back fairly quickly from anything hurtful that was hurled in the other's direction. Draco had enjoyed that aspect of their relationship as well.

Relationship…

Draco mulled the word over cautiously.

Well, they couldn't be called acquaintances.

Draco cursed himself, realizing that _he_ had been the one who made more out of their meetings than he should have. _He_ insisted on more; _he_ always wanted her all to himself. Had Draco been more perceptive he would have realized something was off sooner. He had never been that frantic for a single conquest before.

He couldn't go back, though. That much he knew. He had to face what he had let himself fall into, though there would still be a great deal of reluctance. There were still so many unanswered questions that Draco couldn't leave well enough alone.

Feeling some fire return he decided that he wouldn't give up yet. He would try again. He wasn't sure which try would be the charm but he couldn't just let things be. He would endeavor not to be all bluster and talk. He would make a legitimate attempt to win Hermione over, this time without pretending to be something he clearly wasn't.

Feeling jittery, filled to the brim with resolve, Draco got out of his chair. He made his way down to the Great Hall to get some food and strategize. He realized that his stomach was so empty it felt shriveled. He had gone without eating for several meals and was feeling ravenous now, his nausea forgotten.

Unfortunately as he descended the staircase he was reminded of something he detested. He saw a shock of grotesque, orange hair pass by his line of sight. Draco held back a groan and instead ran his hand through his hair. Perhaps the worst part of his rejection was that he had lost to Weasley, that pathetic excuse for a wizard.

Draco straightened his posture and continued forward, deciding that he would get in Ron's way just to start a scuffle with someone he held so much contempt for at the moment. However when the two came close, and Draco leaned in, planning to make their shoulders collide, he was surprisingly knocked back by a force he hadn't predicted.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, Ginger!" Draco shouted, still stunned that he had stumbled a few steps backwards and Weasley hadn't so much as flinched as he continued to charge forward.

"You watch it!" Ron barked in a venomous tone. He sounded very pissed off, something Draco couldn't have anticipated. When he looked at Weasley, really looked at him, he could see the dark circles and puffy redness around his eyes beyond his dark and distorted expression, teeth bared like an animal.

"Have you been crying, Weasley?" Draco scoffed, feeling a grin spread across his face.

"FUCK OFF, YOU BLOODY GIT!" Ron shouted, whipping around and marching away.

Draco stayed planted for a moment, a stupid smile still plastered to his face. If he had been tasked to measure his happiness at that moment he couldn't come up with a quantity large enough. He would be sure to remember this instance for later appreciation.

* * *

><p>Draco discovers a glimmer of hope (hooray!). What grand gestures can he make to pull Hermione back from the point of no return?<p>

We shall see :)

R&R&Enjoy


	8. Chapter 8

A lot of OC stuff in this one. I hope no one is bothered by my imaginary history of the Malfoy family :)

* * *

><p>Draco awoke bright and early, his nervous heartbeat propelling him through his morning routine. He readied himself for the day as a knight might for war. He went over and over the plan in his head as he dressed. He paused only to stare himself down in the mirror and mentally remind himself that he could and would do what he must without self-doubt.<p>

There was no more time for second-guessing.

He quickly headed towards the Great Hall, one destination and one goal in his head. He approached the Gryffindor table with purpose and came right up to where Hermione was sitting. Potter's radar had picked up on him long before he was standing in front of the pair, his eyes already glaring in the Slytherin's direction.

"What do you want Malfoy?" Harry snapped his body tensing, ready for a fight.

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco answered shortly, hardly giving him the time of day, "My business is with Hermione."

"What?" Potter questioned, slightly deflated. Hermione looked over her shoulder at Draco warily. She was also tensed like she would run if the opportunity presented itself.

"What business do you have with her? Anything you can say to her you can say in front of me," Harry defended valiantly standing up from the table so that he was more or less eye-to-eye with the blonde. As Draco stared down his polar opposite, the protagonist, he wondered what he had ever been so intimidated by.

"I'm sure you know she's my tutor, Potter. I just have a few questions for Hermione," Draco emphasized her name a second time with a wicked smile, implying their familiarity with one another. He watched Hermione glance around nervously. It was true people were beginning to stare. Draco was glad. He hoped the added pressure would force Hermione's hand.

"So ask them. Right here," Potter insisted, his arms folded across his chest, puffing himself up. It was at this point that Draco noticed Ron was nowhere to be found. Usually he would be right at Harry's side when it came to stand offs between himself and The Grand Trio. Draco was sure the poor git was still sulking. He almost wished Weasley were here to see this.

"Sorry but this isn't a group session," Draco purred bracing his hand against the table. He leaned in intimidatingly close to Potter, the scarred boy flinching back slightly. "I signed up for private lessons."

While Draco was distracting Harry and everyone else with their more apparent conflict the blonde had only leaned in to intrude in Hermione's personal bubble. His hand, obscured by a cloak, pressed delicately into Hermione's back. She didn't jump but Draco felt his smile widen when he heard the small gasp of surprise and felt her shift in her seat.

"If I recall, Hermione is now your ex-tutor," Harry snapped smugly. He smiled as though he had located the trump card. Draco grimaced realizing that if he didn't move things along he might start trying to throttle Potter and that would put him far off track. Instead he decided to lean away and ignore Harry. He instead turned his attention to Hermione. He sat down on the bench seat, his upper body turned to face her, his eyes catching and holding her gaze.

A roar of murmurs erupted across the Great Hall. They had expected a duel, not… whatever this was. Hermione, quite obviously uncomfortable from all of the attention, still managed to meet Draco's gaze head on. He wouldn't have it any other way.

"In all seriousness I do have an important question to ask. I would consider it a personal favor if you would assist me out in the courtyard."

All of Hogwarts reeled with a collective 'huh?' Harry especially looked flabbergasted. Draco had only ever expressed disgust towards Hermione and all mudbloods for that matter. For him to ask for help seemed unthinkable. Yet there he was, seated in enemy territory laying all of his cards on the table. Even the ones up his sleeves. He realized in the back of his mind that he truly was willing to do anything to get her attention at this point. He put that revelation to the side for a moment, waiting for Hermione's answer. After much deliberation and chewing of her lip she replied.

"Fine. Lets go."

Draco smiled victoriously, standing up and taking a step back to give her space to stand. He took a moment to shoot a smug glance at Potter whose expression was pricelessly confused. Draco let Hermione take the lead. He was afraid that if he wasn't behind her she might make a break for it.

The two left the Great Hall, colossal doors swinging closed, cutting off the uproar of the curious on lookers. Outside in a courtyard the two faced each other again in an inconspicuous corner.

"What is it? Hermione asked quickly, wanting to return to her average day, though that seemed impossible at this point. Draco took a calming breath, squaring his shoulders and preparing to ask.

"Would you please meet me in Hogsmead on Sunday?"

Hermione stared, dumbfounded. Draco could tell this wasn't the question she was expecting.

"N… no," she answered slowly staring at him with furrowed brows.

"Why not?" Draco pressed, keeping his tone reserved.

"Because I told you that I was severing all ties with you. What was unclear about that?" Draco paused, expecting this reply.

"It was clear, I just don't care." Hermione looked like she was about to roll her eyes so Draco jumped in, "Or to be more accurate I care more about what I have planned that your wishes right now."

"You. Are. Infuriating." Hermione sighed after a few moments of stunned silence. Draco felt himself smile which only caused Hermione to glare. "This isn't funny. I was serious about what I said and I didn't want to prolong this unpleasantness any further. I don't have any reason to follow through on your request and you know that."

"I do," Draco replied slowly, "you have every reason to refuse… but as I said I don't care. This is something I need to ask no matter what." He watched Hermione stare at him. He saw her expression warp and she looked to be in pain.

"Why? Why are you doing this? After everything that's happened? You have no idea the hurt that I have inflicted on my friends as a result of this fantasy gone awry? The pain I felt?"

"I do have an idea," Draco answered quietly. This took Hermione off guard, he could tell. "We may not have had the same things to lose but I can understand the pain. So please, even though there is no reason for you to meet me… I just hope you'll humor me one last time. "

In a loaded silence the two stared each other down. Draco could tell that Hermione's mind was racing, trying to choose the most logical option. His hands felt clammy. This was his last shot. There was nothing more he could do if she refused him now. He just hoped that his suspicions about where her heart really lay were correct.

"I'm not making any promises…" Hermione answered slowly, her tone revealing a subtle annoyance probably directed at herself for giving in again to Draco's wishes. "I might show up or I might not. I don't feel capable of making a definitive decision right now."

"That's fine," Draco answered, breathing half a sigh of relief. "I'll be at the Rosehip Tearoom at noon," taking a long pause Draco felt his mask of resolve soften a bit. " I really hope you are able to make it."

"We'll see," Hermione answered as she turned and retreated back into the castle.

…

The weekend arrived quickly and Draco took this opportunity to return home on Saturday. There was something there that he needed for Sunday and was glad that his family was rich and prestigious enough to possess such a rare item. As the carriage that picked him up neared Malfoy Manor Draco stared up at all of the dark windows. He was hoping he could just sneak in and out quickly without arousing any attention. Although he very much enjoyed his mother's company his father was another story. He and Lucius had never seen eye to eye, or rather Draco never quite measured up.

The carriage came to a stop and Draco shook the thoughts from his head. His father had nothing to do with his visit. This was for Hermione's sake. Draco got out of the carriage and gave the driver a few galleons and told him to wait for him to return and that he wouldn't be long. The pudgy wizard nodded and put his feet up, opening up a thermos of tea to combat the cold weather that was beginning to creep up on the land that day.

Draco took long strides through the gates and to the main door. He disabled the lock with his wand and heaved open the colossal doors. Several house elves ran over to assist him with his jacket but he waved them away. He didn't intend to stay long. He ascended several spiral staircases until he reached the family library. He sheepishly wondered when he had last cracked the spine of one of these dusty relics. Hermione surely would have thought it shameful to ignore such a plethora of information.

Draco gazed from one side of the slightly curved room to the other. He could recall that the books he was looking for were somewhere on the top shelf but where? At a lose Draco lifted his wand and spoke.

"_Accio Draconis's Journals_." Draco looked overhead and saw a few leather spines begin to shudder. Slowly five old volumes drifted down. Draco held out his arms and the books gently came to a rest in his grasp. He carefully peeked inside each volume making sure they were the ones he was looking for. He held the oversized books to his chest and returned to the stairs again making a quick decent. He was almost to the foyer when he glanced out the window and saw dark clouds circling overhead. Perhaps he should follow the driver's example and brew a cup of tea before he left.

He retired to the kitchen, flicked on the stovetop with his wand, and starting a temporary fire in the fireplace of the adjacent parlor room. Warmth immediately radiated through out the Manor with the help of his enchantment. Draco removed his heavy, outer, black jacket leaving him in just a light gray sweater and dark trousers. He chose a tea bag and cup from a nearby cupboard setting them down and leaning against the marble counter. Draco gingerly placed the large leather journals in his bag before pausing and pulling volume one back out. He opened it to the first page admired the beautifully scribed title page. The ink was still vibrant with the help of preservative spells.

"Studium Ignis Lacertae noto Draconis Mardling, " Draco read aloud. Of course these were the Latin words. Roughly translated they said "The Study of the Fire Lizards by Draconis Mardling" as he had been told time and time again. Draco flipped slowly through the seemingly brittle, magic-imbued pages. Inside was a very detailed field journal with beautifully colored and gold leafed illustrations of the earliest species of dragons. Draco smiled at the thought of Hermione pouring over these pages and spending hours translating the words from their original source.

In truth this book was the basis for all early knowledge of dragons. Draconis Mardling was actually one of the Malfoy family's oldest ancestors and he was who Draco was named after. He had made ground breaking discoveries in the field of studying mythical beasts. These journals were one of a kind and few knew they still existed. The only references that remained of these journals were in the reprints of reprints.

Draco heard the teakettle whistle and he placed the journal back into his bag, fastening it securely. He readied his tea bag, adding a dollop of honey and stirred the water into his cup slowly. As he let the tea cool for a moment he caught a glimpse of himself in the glass cupboard doors. As he observed his pleasing reflection he wagered that the sweater he was wearing was probably his favorite item of clothing. He slid the fabric of the sleeve between his thumb and forefinger. It was amazingly soft while not being too fluffy and was never too warm or itchy. Not to mention it was a very handsome shade of gray.

He wondered how Hermione would look in it. The collar would be open enough for him to see the shadows cast by her collarbones and the bottom would just barely reach mid thigh. The sleeves would be much too long, though. He could imagine just the tips of her tiny fingers poking out of the ends of the sleeves.

Draco looked back up into the glass of the cupboard doors and saw a big smile on his face. It quickly fell and he rubbed his forehead with both hands.

"What the bloody hell am I thinking?" he asked the empty manor. This was not a helpful thought to entertain. He knew it was a dangerous thing to hope for and yet his mind began to create the scene.

A small but cozy flat near the city, far from Malfoy Manor; just the right amount of furniture and two of every dish and plate; a place to warm up in the winter and cool down in the summer, shoes of two different sizes hastily removed at the door and a queen bed where the covers were never completely made. A new life void of the influences of dark magic, void of stoic and stiff gatherings among people you knew would sooner stab you in the back that give you a leg up in the world. Inside the door there would always be a sense of weight lifted and lingering warmth would always sweep over him when he returned home.

It would be a place that always smelled of her.

Lilac and honey suckle.

In a place like that Hermione could definitely wear his oversized sweater.

Draco saw his vision blur a little. He blinked hard and leaned away from the counter. He finished his tea in one gulp, the liquid burning the roof of his mouth. He left the cup in the sink and grabbed his coat and bag, running out the door before he had time to put them on. He reached the carriage and handed the driver a fist full of galleons and ordered him to return him to Hogwarts as soon as possible. The driver nodded and looked unfazed by Draco's attitude. He had dealt with his fair share of strange passengers.

Draco pulled on his coat roughly once he was in the carriage and plopped his bag down on the seat, forgetting for a moment that it housed family relics. He pressed his cold hands to his face, taking deep calming breaths.

He had been far too elated just then. He needed to get a hold of himself. Especially with Sunday looming so close.

When facing off with someone like Hermione Draco knew he had to remain levelheaded.

* * *

><p>More to come!<p>

R&R&Enjoy!


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